The Last Enemy
by continuedinterests
Summary: Harry Potter, eighteen, figures out what to do with life after death. Teddy plays a part. H/G.
1. Ashes to Ashes

**Ashes to Ashes**

 **A/N So this is obviously not the sequel to Resolution. This is a separate story, a separate plot bunny, which I hope you will enjoy. And if you were hoping for the Resolution sequel, don't worry, I have every intention to do it, but I need a writing break from it. Also, if you are wondering when the action is going to kick in, it's really not. This is more of a slice of life sort of deal.**

Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, former Undesirable Number One, Receiver of the Order of Merlin- First Class, and the Master of Death, woke up sneezing violently, hitting his head against a pile of books on his bed side table, knocking them to the ground.

Harry groaned, clutching his forehead and muttering. He stumbled out of bed, pulling open the curtains and blinking into the afternoon light that slanted through the window, exposing the twirling dust behind him, which he had been ignoring for the last week.

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, Harry put on his glasses and made his way slowly down stairs, sneezing a few more times and rubbing his eyes more, causing them to become redder and more puffy.

Harry sat down on the couch, a flurry of dust raising up around him, which he also ignored as he sneezed again.

"You have got to be joking, Harry." Hermione's face stared out at him from the fire. Harry jumped, his hand automatically reaching for his wand.

Mrs. Weasley face was next to Hermione's, her mouth open in indignation. "This is just silly, Harry Potter. You will come home at once!"

Harry sighed, his arms crossing over his chest.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't sigh at us. This is what I was worried about, you do realize it is almost two in the afternoon, don't you?"

Mrs Weasley followed, "And you haven't cleaned an inch. You said you would clean first thing, said you wouldn't need our help at all. Smug, wasn't he, Hermione, saying, 'I think I can master a dust cleaning charm, thank you.' Now look at you, your whole face is has puffed up. I known I have a potion for allergies around here…"

Harry waved his hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it Mrs. Weasley. I have every intention of cleaning the place up today. I've just been busy this last week. And I'm not returning to The Burrow, I had already been there for three months, I can't stay there forever…"

"Why not?" Mrs. Weasley interjected, "We love having you and the house is so quiet now, what with everyone returning to their homes and Ron moving in with George and now heading off with Hermione. Ginny's going to start school soon..."

Mrs. Weasley's face became more strained the longer she spoke, her eyes filling with tears, as they so readily did these days. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other quickly, frowning. Harry guessed that Hermione was patting Mrs. Weasley on the back now, based on the angle of her head. Harry gave a small cough. "I love being over at The Burrow, you know that Mrs. Weasley, but I'm almost eighteen now, and I have this house just sitting here…"

Mrs. Weasley blinked rapidly, giving a watery smile, "Yes, almost eighteen, all grown up." She gave a small chuckle and then sighed. "I do suppose you'll want your independence. But still, at least let me come over and help with the cleanup…"

"That's really alright, I actually do have time today. Next time you all come over, it will positively glow." Behind Harry, the grandfather clock sounded twice, pushing dust out with each chime, then wheezing to a stop. This time Hermione and Mrs. Weasley traded looks.

"Yes. Well, I know you aren't going to change your mind, so I'm afraid I must be off, I was half way through sorting the laundry when Hermione said that she was going to call you. I'll leave you two to talk." Mrs. Weasley popped out of the fireplace at Harry and Hermione's goodbye.

Hermione looked at Harry consideringly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but perhaps you should call Kreacher over?"

"I see how it is, Hermione. It's house-elves rights this, house-elves rights that, but the moment there's too much dust…"

"Hush up, you." Hermione grinned at him before turning her head, looking around the room. "It really is gross in here though. I mean, it wasn't exactly sparkling when we left, but…"

Harry smiled at Hermione, hitting the arm of the couch, which puffed out a small amount of dust. "If you open the windows, the dust kind of sparkles."

Hermione laughed. "That was strangely poetic."

Harry groaned. "Can you imagine. I'll write the biography everyone has been asking for, but as a poem. I'll title it, 'Harry Potter: My life in Poetry.' But you know, Kreacher is happier at Hogwarts, I think. This house doesn't bring out the best in him."

Hermione snorted. "I think that's true about Kreacher. Also, the sad thing is that a book of narcissistic poetry from you would probably sell out instantly." Hermione's face shifted, wincing. "This isn't terribly comfortable. Ron and I just wanted to give you our love before we left. It will be hard to for owls to get here quickly, but I promise we will write all the time while we're away."

"Yes, I'm sure Ron was all about sending love. I bet you five knuts he told you to tell me, 'Ta! Don't make anymore nearly immortal enemies while we're gone.' or something similar," Harry said, smirking.

Hermione's mouth fell open a little. "That's exactly what he said! But you know, I'm not going to give you five knuts for knowing that Ron has all the sentimentality of gargoyle."

Harry sat down in front of the fire, his grin slipping into a more serious face. "You and Ron stay safe, okay? Please do write, seriously. I want to know how it all goes with your parents."

Hermione swallowed, nodding earnestly. "I will, I promise. But you know, Harry, it's not too late, you can still come…"

Harry shook his head, a small smile on his face. "I think it's going to be hard enough to explain everything without showing up with two boys you spent months in a tent with. One should be more than enough."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but gave Harry a small, grateful smile. "Write back Harry Potter, or I swear…"

Harry nodded, waving as Hermione popped out of the fireplace.

* * *

Harry looked at the book on the bed, trying to make sense of the complicated twirling motion of the wand movements the picture was showing.

"Alright, attempt number twenty one, lucky twenty one, I can do this." Harry muttered to himself, squaring his stance, his face showing intense concentration. "Aer Mundus."

The dust around him swirled dramatically, making what looked like a small tornado, which grew smaller and smaller until it was an incredibly dense ball in middle of the room. Harry punched the air, exclaiming, "Yes, I defeat you dust, I…" But just as he spoke, the ball exploded, showering the room, and Harry, with a fine layer of dust. Harry sneezed.

"Damn it." Shaking his head and patting down his clothes, Harry left the room, moving determinedly towards the stairs. "I'll just have to ask Mrs. Weasley…"

Harry stopped at the top of the stairs. "No. No. I've bothered her enough. I need to figure this out on my own. I need to try to be a regular, adult, wizard…"

Harry moved back down the hallway muttering again to himself, "A regular adult wizard who doesn't talk to himself and get defeated by dust…"

He climbed the stairs at the other end of the hallway, entering Sirius's room, picking up the book of heavy duty cleaning spells he had left in here a few days ago. He moved to leave when a picture of Sirius, young and smiling, his arm around Remus, caught his eye.

" _Dying? Not at all. Quicker and easier than falling asleep._ "

Harry sighed, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. He sat down on Sirius's bed, looking at Remus and Sirius's laughing faces.

He had told the Weasleys over and over again what had happened when he had died. He told them as a group, before Fred's funeral, their faces pained and hopeful.

He told Mrs. Weasley five or six different times, usually in the small hours of the morning, his arm around her shaking shoulders.

He told Mr. Weasley once more, in the shed, his head bent over a toaster, tear drops falling on the exposed coils.

Ron and Hermione hugged him, both at the same time, as he told them first, the day after.

Bill and Charlie, at different times, had smiled at him in strikingly similar ways, asking to hear it just once more.

Percy just stared at him, opening and closing his mouth, his face becoming more and more red before Harry just asked him if he wanted to hear about death again.

George had grabbed him on the shoulder, too hard, his hands shaking, his expression raw, staring at him directly in the eye, "You're sure Harry, mate, you are absolutely sure?" Harry had nodded back, just once, trying to somehow show all his sincerity in that one gesture.

Ginny frowned at him, hesitating, her breath catching. "I don't like to hear of you dying. I don't like it at all. But, once more, for Fred, could you…"

He had told them all, "There is a life after death. I don't know what it is, but I know it's there. I know, because I've seen it myself, felt it myself, that we will see them all again. So I know that this isn't goodbye, so much as see you later."

Harry carried that truth with him in the procession of funerals that followed the final battle. He carried it with him when he saw Mrs. Weasley sob over Fred's grave. He held it in his heart when he saw Andromeda's face, white with anguish, holding Teddy, asleep, unaware of just how much he had already lost.

But Harry didn't tell them how he jerked awake at night sometimes, trying desperately to dodge the sickly green light he knew would always hit him.

He didn't tell them how, even though he knew there was life after death, even though he had supposedly mastered it, that he didn't want to die again, not like that. Not at all.

Perhaps he didn't fear death the way that most do anymore, but, Harry thought, gripping his book tightly, he also felt achingly aware of his mortality, acutely conscious of the thin line between here and gone. Between the before and the after. Between alive and dead.

Harry closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths. His grip loosened on the book, he stood up shakily.

Smiling a little grimly to himself, he muttered, "But let's focus on the real battle here, Harry. The thing you really have to master. Dust." Harry walked quickly forward, closing the door firmly behind him.

* * *

Harry realized that his he really was losing his mind as he made a dust angel in the carpet by his bed. He couldn't get over how he had killed a Basilisk, fought dragons, battled death eaters, and defeated the Dark Lord but could not, no matter how much he tried, no matter what spell he used, clean the dust in his room.

His wand, his precious wand, which he chosen over the Elder Wand, laid by the wall, where Harry and thrown it in frustration. It was a matter of pride. He could not, would not, ask for help with this.

He had defeated Voldemort.

He would defeat the dust.

But how? Harry contemplated as he stood, looking down at his sad, brown version of a snow angel.

Harry tapped his finger against his lips. "No, I give up."

He walked out of the room, down the stairs, and over to the fire place, his shoulders slumped.

Harry coughed and tried to stop the sickly spinning feeling flooing just his head gave him. He stared out into the empty kitchen of The Burrow, which was, truthfully, strangely quiet.

"Mrs. Weasley? Mrs. Weasley?" Harry yelled out, wondering if he should just try back later. He heard footsteps round the corner just has he was about pull away.

Ginny looked down at him, eyebrow raised, her face a little stiff. "Well, if it isn't Harry Potter."

Harry looked up at her, grinning. "Perfect. Ginny, I need your help."

For a split second Ginny's eyes widened, her expression surprised and oddly vulnerable at the same time. Then a moment later she just looked suspicious. "With what?"

Harry shook his head, "Just come over really quick, if you have time?"

Ginny nodded, frowning.

Harry waited, smiling more fully as she came twirling out of the fire much more graceful than he could ever manage.

"What is it, then?" Ginny asked, looking around the room curiously, almost cautiously.

"I can not, for the life of me, get a dust cleaning charm to work for me."

Ginny glared at him balefully, turning on her heel and moving back towards the fireplace.

"No! Ginny, don't go. I really do need help." Harry pulled her back, laughing.

Ginny looked up him, her expression annoyed. Harry couldn't help noticing, even though she didn't look pleased, how pretty she looked, her long hair put into a lazy bun at the nab of her neck, freckles lining the bridge of her nose, her eyes warm somehow, even while narrowed in anger. Her lips were full and unusually red, looking like she has just been biting them, a faint smudge of ink on her chin. She had probably just been doing homework. Harry was finding it difficult to look away from her face, his eyes darting back to her lips. He licked his.

"You can not be thinking of kissing me at this moment, Harry Potter," Ginny said, incredulous.

Harry snapped out of it. "Sorry, Ginny. Honestly, some part of my brain is thinking of kissing you at any given moment."

Ginny managed to look pleased and miffed at the same time. "Did you ask me over here for some snogging? Because, you know, you don't have to make up some excuse for that…"

Harry smiled fully, his eyes glinting. "I'm happy to hear that, sincerely. But I actually can't get any of these spells to work and it's driving me nuts. I think my head's going to explode if I sneeze one more time."

"Oh, and you assume I know cleaning spells. Why, because I'm a witch?" Ginny asked, her hands on her hips.

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, I assume you know cleaning spells because you are Molly Weasley's daughter."

Ginny bit her lip, her eyes narrowing further, "Fine, fair point. But watch closely, I'm not going to do your cleaning spells forever, you know. You have to keep up your half of the work."

Harry nodded, both confused and peculiarly pleased.

"Pulvis Peribit." Ginny spoke, jabbing her wand it two quick motions. All the dust rose in the air, shimmering once, then vanishing, leaving the air with a distinctly fresh scent.

Harry took a deep breath, smiling. "Thank you. You never really think about breathing until it hurts to do so."

Ginny grinned at him, gesturing towards the door. "Your turn."

In the next room, Harry tried the spell, the dust raising in the air, half of it shimmering, the other half falling back down to the ground.

Ginny frowned, looking over at Harry. "Wow, you weren't lying, you really are bad at dust cleaning spells."

Harry huffed and furrowed his brows, trying again. This time all the dust vanished, but there was a slight burnt plastic smell left in the air after.

Ginny scrunched her nose, "How did you manage that, there isn't even any plastic in here?"

Harry frowned at her. "Oh, and I bet the first time you did this spell, it went perfectly?"

Ginny smirked at him.

"Damn you, fine. So I'm not good at these kinds of spells." Harry felt overly frustrated, which he could tell Ginny could see.

"Harry, everyone has spells that take them a little while to get the hang of, you know that." Ginny touched his elbow, standing closer.

"I...I just wanted to be able to this, I guess. I mean, how am I supposed to be an normal adult, how am I supposed to have Teddy over, if I can't do cleaning spells?"

Ginny opened her mouth, hesitating. "I think this is showing that you're a normal adult, Harry. Because, as I've mentioned, everyone has spells that take them longer. And don't fret, maybe you're bad at cleaning dust, but perhaps amazing at toilet cleaning charms. Then I can dust, you can do the toilet, and Teddy won't catch the plague or dragon pox, or whatever thing you're worried about."

Harry squeezed her hand gently, feeling better. "Sorry, it's been a long day."

Ginny smirked at him again. "How, it's only seven, Hermione said you got up at two?"

Harry poked her in the side, grinning. "Then it has been a long five hours."

Ginny squirmed away, making a small squeaking sound as Harry poked her. He smiled, a touch evilly, as Ginny looked at him wearily. "I'm not ticklish, I'm not. You just surprised me. Harry Potter. Harry don't you dare start tickling…"

But it was too late, Harry moved forward, his hands at her sides as she laughed from her stomach, her hands slapping at his. Her face was slowly turning red, her eyes shining. "If you don't, ahahahaha, stop right now, haha, I'm going to knee you, ahaHAhaha, in the bollocks."

Harry stopped, his hands on her hips, watching her as she regained her breath, still giggling. He felt like his cheeks were going to split from his smile. Ginny looked up at him, her smile becoming more relaxed, more tender. Harry moved forward, one hand moving to her cheek.

Ginny whispered haltingly, "It was the first time you asked me for help, you know."

Harry paused, his face inches from hers. "What?"

Ginny frowned, her face thoughtful. "It was the first time you asked me for help and it just...It bothers me that it was for a dusting spell."

Harry moved back a little, standing straight, confused, "Ginny, you've helped me out loads of times. Getting into Umbridge's office, the Ministry, the various battles…"

"You didn't want my help in the battle at Hogwarts. I couldn't believe that you sided with my family about me not fighting, like I'm some little girl you have to protect…" As she spoke, her voice got lower, her anger coming out clearer.

Harry could tell that this had been something that had been bothering her for awhile. He wondered how much it had been eating at her, wondered if it had been responsible for the sudden beats of awkwardness, the occasional chill in her words.

"It wasn't because I thought you incapable. Not even a little."

"Then why?"

Harry looked down at her, feeling clearly why he didn't want her to fight, but uncertain of how to say it. "I just wanted you safe."

Ginny shook her head, "No, see, you don't get to decide if I'm safe or not. It's a dangerous world, Harry, even without He-who-...V-Voldemort running around in it. What are you going to do, lock me in a tower? And what about Ron and Hermione, don't tell me you would have been fine with them being hurt, but you ran around everywhere with them."

Harry bit his lip, thinking. He knew this was important, he had to explain this right to her. "You had to stay safe, Ginny, because you are saftey."

Now it was Ginny's turn to look confused. "What?"

Harry shook his head, moving away from her, pacing a few steps, back and forth. "You see, in sixth year, being with you, it was like, 'Ah, so this is what it is like, being normal, being happy.' It felt like being in someone else's life. Being with you made me think, 'Hey, this is what it would be like if Voldemort wasn't here.' So, if something happened to you, then that hope, that idea of what it would be like without him would also be gone. Does that make sense?"

Ginny swallowed thickly, "So I became a symbol, a prize at the end of the road?"

Harry shook his head, frustrated. "Yes and no. In my mind, yes, you did become a symbol for what fighting Voldemort was about for me. And no, because you didn't just become a symbol, some prize to be won. Ginny, you were always a person. The only person, if fact, that made me feel safe, safe enough to picture a future for the first time in my life." Harry spoke with conviction, almost angrily. He turned to look at Ginny, whose crossed arms slowly moved down to her sides.

She glanced up at him, her eyes watery. "Oh. Well, that's...that kind of makes sense."

Harry sagged, relieved. "It does?"

Ginny nodded, giving him a small smile. "Kind of." She moved towards him, her arms circling his waist loosely, her head against his chest. She patted his bum twice.

Harry grinned, kissing her forehead, feeling like that last bit of awkwardness, that small layer of frost that had been there since the battle at Hogwarts, had finally, fully disappeared.


	2. Those Who Leave Us

**Those Who Leave Us**

The house was clean of dust. Now instead of being dusty, dark, dreary, and dilapidated it was just dark, dreary and dilapidated.

At least, between the Order's stay and Harry, Ron and Hermione's, Harry was fairly certain that the house wasn't going to suddenly attack him. Even the various curses left for Snape had disappeared.

But Harry knew that wasn't good enough. He needed to make the place more his own.

And the first way to do that was by getting rid of that bitch.

Because never was too soon to hear the words mudblood, blood traitors, or half-breeds hatefully spewed ever again.

So Harry stood, quietly, tapping his wand against his hand, a sledge hammer leaning against his leg, contemplating how best to go about this. First, he wanted to make sure that the ceiling or the floor or the entire wall itself wouldn't collapse if he took out that part of the wall. He did this by expertly tapping on the wall, quietly, as not to wake her, and hearing that it was hollow, so he figured that there weren't any support beams in place.

Then he shrugged, deciding that he didn't care overly, and wanted to take her out regardless of what happened.

Second, he learned a spell that locked portraits in their frames. Smirking, he did it non-verbally. Her curtains remained closed.

He started by doing various cutting charms, equally quietly, around the frame. Slowly bits of wallpaper, plaster, and wood started falling to the floor. Eventually there was a rough square surrounding her portrait. Harry started summoning chunks of the wall, which flew to his hands and he dropped at his feet. Eventually there was a clean, squarish hole in the wall, exposing the spare bedroom on the other side.

But the portrait was still there, hanging in space, not even a little crooked.

Suddenly the curtains pulled back so violently that one side ripped, hanging limply by the corner. She stared down at him, her eyes wide, her face white with fury, her mouth opening and closing, overcome with anger.

"You. You filth. You disgusting half-blood. WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HOUSE?"

Harry laughed, glaring, he felt his head filling with white hot anger. "I hate to break it do you, but this is my house. I own it, my half-blood self, because I rightfully inherited from my godfather. And guess what? I'm going to fill it with mudbloods and blood-traitors and half-breeds. I'm going to fill it with light and happiness and family and there is nothing you can do about it." Harry spoke quietly, his teeth clenched, his anger coming out almost as a hiss.

"You aren't worthy enough to clean the toilets you contamination. I will never give up this house to you! I will never let you and yours pollute what we have built! TOUJOURS PUR!"

Harry hit her with the sledge hammer.

She screamed, dodging towards the edge of the frame and bouncing off the edge. The sledge hammer broke the frame, the frayed edge of the canvas on the right side exposed.

She leaned against the side, gripping the edge of the painting, fighting against sliding down towards the shredded sagging edge of the canvas. She looked at Harry, her wide, bloodshot eyes blinking, panting through her hateful mouth.

Harry, keeping eye contact, raised his hammer and smashed the other side of the frame, taking out another part of the wall with it.

She didn't scream this time, instead she laid crumpled, sobbing, at the top of the now hanging upside-down canvas, twisted so that he could still see her.

She wiped her cheeks and straightened her clothes the best she could. She looked at Harry calmly, speaking softly. "I just want to protect what's left of the family I once cherished, that was torn apart."

Harry set her on fire.

The flames ate away at the canvas, the popping sound of the heated, melting oil paints mixed with sounds of Mrs. Black's terrified screams. As the flames reached the top of the the painting, there was a puff of purple smoke and the frame fell in a burning heap on the ground. Harry doused it with water from his wand, his face blank.

Behind him a soft voice coughed. Harry turned, looking at the painting of Phineas Black, propped up against the wall on the other side of the hallway.

He smiled at Harry grimly, his voice silky. "I suppose, in an effort to make sure you don't destroy the house, I can teach you the counter charm to the famous Black permanent sticking charm. Even Sirius didn't know it."

Two hours later, every one of Sirius unpleasant family portraits, the family tree, and all the dark, depressing art was off of the walls and stacked in neat, silent piles in the attic. None of the portraits spoke a word, frightened that Harry would do the same to them as he had done to Walburga. Only Phineas remained hanging, relocated to the library. The debris and the burnt remnants of the frame where all thrown out, leaving just the lopsided hole in the wall with scorch marks above it, almost reaching the ceiling.

Harry sighed, washing his hands and pulling a comb through his hair, feeling vaguely disturbed.

Shrugging, Harry decided that it was time to go grocery shopping. He could only live so many days on take away pizza and curry. He walked through the neighborhood, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his light jacket. It had been raining earlier.

The neighborhood was a bit rough, people avoiding eye contact and walking quickly. The lawns were unkempt, trash in careless piles in front of the houses, most of which seemed to have been broken up into small, cheap apartments.

But perhaps because he had spent the last year living in a tent, running from the law, and fighting dark wizards, Harry just didn't feel bothered by it, though he wondered if he should. What if Teddy wanted to go outside to play someday? It wasn't like Harry could let him wander around this neighborhood, unsupervised.

Harry's frown deepened as he kicked an empty plastic peppermint schnapps bottle down the sidewalk, thinking that perhaps he should just buy a new house. It's not like he didn't have the money.

Harry entered the store, the air overly conditioned, and aimlessly walked around, picking up ingredients, feeling annoyed that wizards didn't have microwaves and that Hogwarts didn't teach more domestic spells.

Harry was looking at a head of lettuce, contemplating whether it was welted or not, and wondering if wizards had grocery stores. Where did Mrs. Weasley even get all of her food? She couldn't have grown all of it in that small garden, even with magic. What about bread? She doesn't cut the wheat and grind that into flour herself, surely?

Harry put the lettuce down, suddenly hit with how much he didn't know about wizarding society and how odd that was, considering he was supposed to have saved it three months ago.

Somewhere behind him a voice shriek loudly. Harry flinched, his mind flashing to the white of Mrs. Black's rolling eyes as the flames flicked higher. He turned around to look, his hand on his wand in his pocket, but it was just a small girl, crying as her mother carried her away from some brightly wrapped candy.

Harry turned back towards his cart, wanting suddenly, very badly, to leave.

Back at Grimmauld Place, Harry scraped his half eaten plate of spaghetti into the trash, wondering what to do with his evening.

He read.

He listened to the WWN, which was full of hopeful, happy chatter about reconstruction and the recovering economy. They covered what shops were opening in Diagon Alley, what was happening at Hogwarts, what laws Kingsley and the largely reorganized Ministry of Magic were putting in place, which Harry was pleased to hear he agreed with. But after a while he started to fidget, making the hole on the couch he was laying on larger. He turned the radio off, staring into space, unsure of what to do with himself.

He napped.

He woke up, feeling somehow more tired than when he fell asleep.

He was bored.

He didn't want to bother Ginny, who he knew was trying to get through the make up assignments Hogwarts had sent out to all returning students, to help catch everyone up from their, to say the least, lackluster year. Hermione had already finished hers while they were all staying at The Borrow, causing Ginny to turn to look at Hermione hopefully, only later to sag in resignation as Hermione adamantly refused to let her copy.

Harry grinned to himself, imagining her face, her brows furrowed in concentration.

He hoped that Ron and Hermione had arrived safely. He thought about starting a letter to them, but didn't have anything to say or any news from them to respond to yet.

He supposed he could clean the house more, do something about that wall, but, well, he didn't want to.

Maybe he could try to contact some other friends. Neville, Luna, Dean, somebody. But he knew what they would want to talk about and he didn't want to. Not today.

Instead, Harry stood up and went to the fireplace, pinching floo powder in between his fingers then dropping it, then pinching it again.

She did say that he could contact her whenever.

"Andromeda's." Harry stuck his head into the green flames, noticing a couch and a pair of jean clad legs as he reoriented himself.

Andromeda Tonks looked down at him, newspaper held limply in her hand, her mouth opened a little in surprise.

"Harry!"

"Mrs. Tonks, I'm sorry to drop in suddenly… I hope this is a good time, I just wanted to see Teddy?"

Mrs. Tonks put down her paper, frowning a little. "First, please call me Andy. Second, I'm afraid that Teddy was just put down for the night, Harry."

Harry felt his face flush. Right, babies went to bed early. "Oh, I'm sorry...Andy. I'll just try some other time…"

Andy shook her head, moving forward. "Why don't you come over for some tea? It would be nice to talk to an adult for awhile."

Harry looked at her hopeful, hesitant face and nodded before concentrating, pulling the rest of his body through the fire in what can only be described as a very strange, slightly nauseating feeling.

He brushed himself off as Mrs. Tonks, Andy, went and got another cup and poured him some tea.

They sat, sipping their tea in an awkward silence. Harry looked around the room, surprised. He hadn't paid too much attention to the interior when he was here last, as he was rather distracted. He had expected, based off the Malfoys' mansion and her own aristocratic air, for Andy's house to be neat and formal. Instead her living room was somehow soft looking, the tables rounded, the carpet thick, the wooden frames of the paintings and photos warm. The chair he was in and the couches were very comfortable, giving just enough for Harry to have to relax into it, despite himself. The windows were open, letting in the early evening breeze.

"I was just reading about you, actually." Andy gestured towards the newspaper.

Harry scoffed, glancing at the picture of his own awkwardly grinning face. "What are they saying about me now?"

"It seems they are mostly trying to piece together what you have been up to this last year, before the battle at Hogwarts."

"Oh? And what was I up to?"

Andy leaned forward, her face openly curious, and looking suddenly, painfully, like Tonks. "They're saying that last year, you and others, I'm guessing Ron and Hermione, infiltrated the Ministry, disguised as random employees, saved a muggleborn, fought dementors, and also attacked Dolores Umbridge."

Harry grinned, nodding. "That one's true."

Andy smiled, pleased. "Then they say there was no sign of you for a long while, though someone claimed they saw you robbing a muggle bank?"

Harry shook his head, frowning. "That's not true."

Andy sat back in her chair, relieved. "Good."

Harry noticed, as she sipped more tea, that she looked tired, older, the lines around her eyes and mouth seemed deeper than he remembered.

"How has it been, looking after Teddy? I...I meant to come around, but…"

Andy looked at him for a long moment. "I don't blame you, you've been running around here and there, funeral after ceremony after funeral. I don't know how you got through it."

Harry broke eye contact, glancing down at his tea. "Well, I don't plan on being that kind of busy again. I felt like the saddest, most sombre show pony to strut across a stage after a while."

Andy laughed, the lines of her face changing, suddenly looking younger.

Harry grinned back. "I...I would like to part of Teddy's life. I mean, a really big part. I want him to have, I don't know, everything, I guess. I just don't want him to feel…"

Andy put her tea down with a sigh. "Without."

Harry nodded, then quickly sat forward, stammering. "I'm not saying, I'm not trying to say that you aren't enough, Mrs. Tonks, I…"

Andy shook her head, frowning. "Andy, Harry, please call me Andy. And I'm not enough."

Harry shook his head frantically, a sinking feeling in his stomach.

Andy reached over and put her hand on his, her expression serious, looking strangely different again, not like any of her relatives. Her face looked all her own, for once.

"I love Teddy. When I wake up in the morning and can't even breath, the darkness of the world in me, holding me down with its suffocating weight, his crying for me is the only thing that will move me. But he isn't, and will never be, Dora. He won't be Ted, he can't and will never fill those holes in my heart." Andy's hands started to shake, tears moving down her face, but she didn't look away. Harry squeezed her hand, swallowing thickly.

"But he can be my grandson, my wonderful little boy, something all his own. So the awful pain, the constant missing of my husband and daughter, the hatred and sadness for my dead sister, exist still, but along side it is my love for Teddy, growing everyday, shining in the darkness, giving me direction."

"And much like he will never be Dora or Ted, I will never be his parents. And neither will you." Harry felt the truth of the statement ring hollowly in his heart, echoing an old pain in his chest. "But! But we, you and I, we can make damn sure that he has everything we can give him; love, protection, security, guidance, a place and people to call his own. In that way, he will never be without family. We can be his family." She let go of his hand, squeezing her own hands togethers, her face passionate.

Harry nodded, his own face showing the determination that was raising from his chest, something powerful starting there.

The conversation after that declaration flowed more easily, but still cautiously, the natural watching out for each other's limits that all acquaintances becoming friends do.

Andy yawned as the clock struck ten. "Oh, I'm sorry, I suppose it is getting late." Harry moved to stand but Andy shot him a look, a skill all mothers seemed to have. Harry sat back down.

"Harry, I'm not going to send you back to that musty old house after all we talked about today. You didn't even get to see Teddy. Unless you have plans or just don't want to, I insist that you stay here for the night."

Harry's heart lifted a little at her suggestion. He didn't really want to go back there yet.

"Thank you Andy, but I don't want you to go to any trouble…"

"Nonsense. I'm doing myself a favor, actually. See, when Teddy wakes up in the morning, tired, grumpy, hungry, and needing his nappy changed, I'll show you what to do and then will promptly go back to sleep."

Harry laughed.

The next morning, however, he wasn't laughing.

"So you've got the spell to change nappies now, you know how to heat his food, and you can hold him without fear of either one of you dying. I'm going to sleep now." She started to shuffle away, bags under her eyes.

"You-you can't be serious!" Harry stared after her, horrified. "I don't know what I'm doing!"

Andy turned back towards him slowly, one hand on the handle, her expression hard to read. "None of us do, Harry, none of us do."

She closed the door behind her with a soft click.

Teddy started crying.

Five hours later Harry was lying the bed in the guest bedroom, his hair sticking up wildly in every direction, baby toys sprawled across the comforter, dried spit up on the shoulder of his t-shirt. He was lightly patting a dozing black haired Teddy on the back, his tiny baby body laying on his chest and stomach.

Harry thought while he must smell fairly awful, Teddy, who had been the one to generate most of the smells in the first place, smelled really good. He didn't smell like soap or anything else, really. He just smelled like clean human. Harry leaned forward and kissed the top his head, his hair impossibly soft.

Teddy squirmed on his stomach, making gurgling noises. Harry sighed, preparing himself for more crying. But instead Teddy just squirmed a little more, moving his tiny arms and body around until he was sliding off of Harry's chest. Harry moved his arm up, cupping Teddy's legs so that he stopped sliding. Now he was looking up at Harry on his side, his arm waving through the air, a happy smile on his face. His hair turned purple.

Harry chuckled at his hair and smiled at his smile. Teddy hit his godfather in the chest with his fist, giggling brightly. Harry chuckled again, taken in by Teddy's laughter. Harry touched Teddy's hand with his own, marveling at his tiny fingernails.

"Someday you're probably going to be bigger than me and I don't think I'll ever get over it." Harry whispered.

Teddy wrapped his whole hand around Harry's index finger. Harry looked from the small hand to Teddy's happy face, his purple eyes staring at him with such innocence.

Harry was a goner.

Around noon Andy wandered downstairs to the kitchen with a sheepish smile on her face. Harry was standing there with a towel over his shoulder, his eyes closed, humming, patting Teddy's back, waiting for him to burp.

Harry looked at her over Teddy's head, a small smile on his face. "Hello there, sleeping beauty."

Andy laughed a little. "Yes, well, I did sleep a lot longer than I meant to, sorry Harry. That was a long time to handle such a young baby, especially for your first time."

Harry shrugged his other shoulder. "You must have been very tired. I really am sorry, Andy. I will definitely come over a lot more now, help you out. Once I get the house fixed up better, I'll have Teddy over sometimes too, so I'm not always imposing on you."

"You aren't an imposition at all, Harry. Honestly... I was worried at first, when Dora told me that you were made the godfather. I thought, what if he has a big head? What if he expects to be treated like a celebrity. Or, what if you, like most young men your age, just simply don't have any interest in babies or children. I was worried Teddy would feel rejected by you, but, well, I can see very clearly now I needn't have worried at all."

Harry and Andy smiled at each other across the kitchen. Teddy burped.

"Excellent. Good job, Teddy!" Harry said, smiling, holding Teddy out in front of him, bouncing him a little.

Andy reached forward. "I'll take it from Harry, you can go home and change, get some rest."

Harry brought Teddy to his chest, frowning a little. "That's alright Andy, I can watch him a little longer."

Andy smiled at him. "Thank you Harry, but it's really okay. I want Teddy now."

Harry frowned further, glancing down at Teddy's smiling face and sighing. "Fine."

Reluctantly Harry handed him over, Andy eagerly reaching over and pulling Teddy close, rubbing her nose against his. "There's my boy, I missed you, even in my sleep."

Harry was hard pressed at this moment to remember how he thought that she looked anything like her sister at all.

She held Teddy in her arms as she walked him towards the fireplace. "Do you have a lot to get today?" Again she looked vaguely guilty, smiling sheepishly.

"No, though I should probably fix the hole in the wall."

"Hole in the wall?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah. I finally got the awful harpy's painting down but I had to cut down half of the hallway wall and light her on fire, so it's still a bit of a mess."

Andy stilled, her face frozen. Harry realized all at once that that was her aunt he was talking about, and her ancestral home on top of it. Harry felt his face turning red. "I- I'm sorry, I'm not sure how you…"

Slowly Andy smiled, her eyes glinting. She looked, once more, startlingly like her sister. Harry tried to compare her to the woman who rubbed noses with her grandson not minutes before.

"You finally got that cow off of the wall? You lit her on fire? What was it like?" Andy stepped a little closer.

Harry gulped. "Ah, well, she screamed and cried, and the oil and the canvas popped a lot."

Andy nodded, her face transforming once more, looking pleased and mischievous, again like Tonks. "Perfect. God, I've always hated her. I'll feel a lot better about stopping by for visits, now that I know she's not there."

Harry nodded, staring at her, wondering if he was ever going to get use to her face. "Please feel welcome to come over whenever, just fire call."

Andy nodded, smiling lightly. Harry reached out and ran his fingers over Teddy's fine, soft, now green, hair.

He left, spinning out into his cold, dark living room.

His sigh sounded loud in the empty space.


	3. Our Choices that Define

**Our Choices that Define**

Harry and Ginny were chatting, passing a quaffle through the hole in the wall.

"But Harry, then you are just making a strangely large space that doesn't serve any real purpose. If you just fix the hole, then you have another bedroom."

Harry caught the quaffle absentmindedly, looking around the space. "You have to use more imagination, Ginny. I'm thinking this spot can be used as a sort play area for Teddy, or a reading space, or just another area to relax in." Harry tossed her the quaffle. "Look behind you, you see how small that window is? Why bother putting one in, honestly. I think they took the whole house of Black thing a little too literally."

Ginny looked back at the window, the quaffle resting on her hip, her face contemplative. "So you're saying that you want to not only knock down the rest of this wall, but knock down a lot of the outside wall and make a bigger window?" Ginny stepped back, looking around the room. "It would certainly open things up, to the point that is strangely hard to imagine." Ginny shrugged, tossing the ball back. "But you certainly what have to get a professional in here for that. Or Bill at the very least."

Harry felt mildly offended. "Why?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Because you don't know what you're doing?"

Harry tossed the ball back. "I can learn."

Ginny caught the ball by her fingertips, looking at him with a confused look on her face. "Harry, what are you doing?"

Harry now looked confused, too. He shrugged and raised his eyebrows, gesturing around the room, as though to say, "I'm talking to my girlfriend and tossing a quaffle through a hole I made while smashing the portrait of hated non-relative, obviously."

Ginny smiled, shaking her head, throwing the ball softly. "No, I mean, why are you suddenly interested in becoming a temporary construction wizard? Why aren't you in auror training?"

Ginny had finally asked what had been on the Weasleys', actually the whole wizarding world's, minds for the last three months. What is Harry Potter doing, and what will he do next?

Harry frowned, twirling the quaffle in between his fingers. "I just want things to calm down a little before I did that."

Ginny stepped closer until she was leaning against the wall by the hole. "Want what to calm down?"

Harry shrugged, leaning against the wall on the other side of the hole. "You know, the whole Harry Potter thing."

Ginny raised an eyebrow, smiling. "Harry, you can't possibly be thinking that this is going to blow over, right? You are now officially, irrevocably, in the history books."

Harry sighed. "Yes, I know. It isn't exactly like I'm expecting for people to completely forget about me or anything, but right now things are a little…"

Ginny's smile changed into something softer, almost a little apologetic. "Intense. Things are a little intense. Harry...They are thinking of building a statue of you, you know, for the atrium in the Ministry."

Harry blanched. "No...Absolutely not. I refuse, I seriously refuse. See, this is what I'm talking about! How I'm a supposed to start as a rookie auror when I have a bloody statue of myself in my work place!"

Ginny reached forward, putting a calming hand on his shoulder. "They aren't going to do it, Harry. Have you forgotten who the Minister is? Dad said that Kingsley couldn't stop laughing, imagining the look on your face at that suggestion. The point wasn't to scare you, I'm just pointing out that that was a serious suggestion. Your fame isn't going to go away any time soon, so you shouldn't wait for it to."

Harry took a calming breath, looking over at her. "Though I don't like it, I have actually gotten more or less use to being famous. I know how this goes. I do something, everyone has an opinion of a while, the newspapers make up things because they don't have anything else to do, everyone doesn't like me for a while, then everyone moves on."

Ginny hesitated. "You...what do you mean everyone moves on?"

Harry frowned at her question. "I mean, everyone stops talking about me eventually. Even at Hogwarts, which of full of gossiping teenagers, I wasn't talked about constantly, you know. People get bored."

Ginny's face paled slightly, her mouth opening and closing a few times.

Harry frowned further. "What?"

"W-Well, uh, you see, rather than people no longer talking about you, you just seemed to get use to it as the school year went on."

Harry shook his head, "No, really, it's hard to miss, you know, people glancing at you, whispering behind their hands. It does eventually stop."

Ginny swallowed, nodding to herself once, and squared her shoulders. "It never stopped, Harry."

Harry opened his mouth angrily.

Ginny shook her head firmly. "You were always talked about. If it was nice or mean gossip, that changed all the time, but you were always part of the gossip, always. I would know, I mean, I have a lot of friends, generally they are good people, but they talked about you all the time. When I started dating you, oh, it was a little scary, actually. People, random people I didn't know at all, would come up and ask the most ridiculous questions. I wasn't joking about the question about the hippogriff tattoo on your chest, you know. And Harry, this was during sixth year, when you were secretly doing a lot, but it didn't look like you were doing anything to the outside crowd. No one thought you were a crazy liar anymore, and you weren't a Triwizard champion, you weren't being chased down by what we thought was a mass murderer, you were just a regular post-OWLs student and quidditch captain, and you know, Harry Potter, so people still, always, always, always talked about you, always."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, a little overwhelmed, but Ginny held up her hand and took a deep breath. "So that was in your sixth year, our most normal year, and now you have defeated bleeding V-Voldemort, Harry. It's just...It's just not realistic to expect that this is going to die down anytime soon. Or at all. In fact, the more you hide, the more curious people get. You can't just redo this house forever, putting your future on hold, waiting to not be famous."

Harry leaned forward, hitting his head against the wall with a thunk. "I don't want to be famous."

Ginny laughed lightly, rubbing the back of his neck, putting her face close to his. "Then you shouldn't have saved us all."

Harry looked over at her, frowning, cautious. "You don't think of me like that, do you. Like some puffed up hero?"

Ginny's smile, already kind, grew somehow softer, her eyes impossibly warm. "I hate to break it to you, Harry, but yes, I do think of you as a hero. My hero, in particular, but everybody else's hero, too. I just also happen to think of you as the guy who loves my mum's treacle tart, who can't do dust cleaning spells to save his life and who is definitely good at quidditch, almost as good as me, but not quite." Ginny moved her hand from his neck to his cheek, her palm warm, her fingers a little cool. "These things aren't as separate as you think."

* * *

Harry was finding the spell to remove wallpaper very satisfying. Although Ginny's doubt at his abilities to responsibly dismantle his house offended him at the time, he did find that the idea of trying to knock down more of the walls slightly intimidating. So instead he was trying to get rid of the rotting wallpaper. He had three sides of the living room done. At the Dursley's taking down the wallpaper had been a thankless (obviously) and exhausting task. Sometimes he would get a few feet at a time but mostly he would pull and then chip at the glue, then pull and chip, pull and chip. But with magic, the paper came down in sheets, all at once. It was very nice.

Harry threw out the piles of wallpaper, then looked thoughtfully at the the fourth wall of the living room before deciding to leave it for later. He sprawled out on the couch and with a flick of his wand, turned on the WWN.

"And that's why, if you're ever in doubt, try the no mess, easy to apply, non-scented Wizard's Wonder Wipes." A cheery jingle followed the advertisement, the whole commercial sounding like it was coming from the nineteen-forties. Harry wondered why every part of the wizarding world seemed suck at various points in the past.

"And we are back. We have finished setting up our system in the atrium of the Ministry and are just waiting for the Minister to start his speech. There has been wild speculation of what the speech is about…" There was a quiet tapping sound and a small cough. "Ah ha, it looks like he is ready, let's all listen, wizards and witches!"

A new voice, lower and less enthusiastic than the announcer, spoke clearly. "Good afternoon all, today's announcement should be fairly short but exciting, so let's all welcome Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic."

The echo-y sound of applause in the atrium filled Harry's living room, followed by the deep, smooth baritone of Kingsley's voice. "Good afternoon. I just wanted to make a brief announcement of what the new statute and water feature in the atrium is going to be. I have here a mock up what it should look like."

There was a swishing sound of material moving and then a steady rise of voices, all talking excitedly. The announcer spoke, quickly and quietly, sounding excited. "For all you curious people at home, Minister Shacklebolt has pulled away a curtain that was covering a ten foot tall painting of what will be the main feature of our Ministry's atrium, and let me tell you all, it is stunning."

Harry sat up, feeling nervous. It wouldn't actually be anything to do with him, right? Kingsley's voice started again, quieting the talking voices almost at once. "As you can see, we wanted to do something different from our predecessors. Obviously the Magic is Might statue goes against everything the current Ministry stands for…" The was a brief interruption of applause. "But also we didn't want to Fountain of Magical Brethren again, as that had been a fountain of lies." The crowd laughed. "So, we came up with this. Looking here, you can see that there will be one main fountain line, which will create a globe effect with water. The lights around fountain will be bright, making the water both sparkle and hard to see through. This globe represents life and magic."

Kingsley paused and Harry relaxed against the couch, relieved and listening carefully. The audience in the atrium remained silent. "As you can see, the figure in the middle of this globe is hard to see, indistinct, ever changing in the shimmering light that is magic and life. You can not tell, one moment to the next, if it is a wizard or a witch, a centaur or a mermaid, a house elf or goblin, magic or muggle. Everyone peer closely at that figure. The closer you look, the harder you look, the more indistinct it becomes, the edges more and more blurry. This is because the lines between us are blurry, unclear and unimportant. We are all creatures living in this world of magic, life, and light together. We are all of this world, we are all part of its beauty. This is what the Ministry wants to express to you now, this is a vision of the world we want to help create."

The audience burst into applause, loud even in his living room. Harry sat still, feeling moved, a smile on his face.

After a minute the clapping slowed and Kingsley spoke again. "This beautiful fountain, designed by Ipsum Esperanto will be installed into the ministry next weekend. Please give him a round of applause." The clapping started again, enthusiastic.

The announcer spoke, "A young man, handsome, with, I daresay a rather daring tattoo sleeve up one arm, is now bowing to the audience."

Once again the clapping slowed. Kingsley cleared his throat a little. "We are all thrilled and pleased with this hopeful symbol of our ideals, though I know some of you are disappointed that this isn't a statue of our handsome young Harry Potter."

Harry grimaced, his face turning red even though he was alone. The crowd laughed.

"But while I know that Harry would have never have wanted to have a statue of himself here or anywhere, really, we here wanted to honor all that he has done for us and to honor all who lost their lives or who lost a loved one fighting the darkness." There was a long pause. The crowd started muttering again.

The announcer spoke this time more more slowly. "The Minister has revealed another portrait. It looks like a drawing of a simple plaque that will go at the base of the statue. It says in bold gold letters, 'We, who live in the light, thank you for all that you have done for us. Then underneath that is has Harry Potter's name in large script, his birthday and a line, and beneath that the names of all of those who fell in the battle at Hogwarts, their names, their birthdays and...and at the bottom of the plaque, the date of their deaths, the date of the battle at Hogwarts, May second, nineteen-ninety-eight."

The announcer's voice had become more subdued as he spoke. The talking in the crowed seemed quieter as well. Harry stood, leaving the room as Kingsley and the announcer wrapped up the speech.

He needed to put on some trousers, a robe and go see Kingsley.

* * *

Harry flattened his hair and looked down as he entered the atrium, heading swiftly for the security desk.

The security guard looked bored, barely glancing up at Harry as he approached the desk.

"Wand please."

Harry handed him his wand, fidgeting, hoping the security guard wouldn't ask him any more questions. "Holy wand, 11 inches. Here's your receipt."

"Thank you."

"What is your business here today?"

"I, uh, want to see Minister Shacklebolt."

The guard snorted, "Do you have an appointment?"

"Um, no, not exactly."

The guard sighed, pulling out a map. "Here, if you go to basement level two and turn right, then left at the loo, you will run into his assistant secretaries. They will be able to assist you with whatever it is you need to see the minister about."

Harry hesitated, wondering if he should say anything. But the idea of saying, "But I'm Harry Potter! Kingsley is my friend!" made him want to punch himself in his own face. Besides, it would be better to see his secretary, it was completely presumptuous to think he could just march in here and demand Kingsley's time. He could make an appointment with Kingsley, hopefully before the plaque is put up, and see what he could do.

Nodding, Harry took the map. "Thank you."

The security guard glanced up at him again, disinterestedly. "You're…" The guard stopped, looking up again at Harry's face, his mouth dropping open. "You're Harry Potter!" The guard's voice carried. Harry glanced around nervously.

"Yes, yes I am. Um, well, thanks again." Harry tried to move away from the desk, but the guard stood and reached out, taking Harry's hand and pumping it enthusiastically with both of his.

"My family is never going to believe this. Cor, I-I'm sorry, sir, I didn't realize it was you."

Harry pulled his hand away, his grin a little stiff, a number of people were glancing his way, a small crowd gathering, pointing towards them. "That is perfectly alright. If you excuse me, I'll go find Kingsley's secretaries…"

"What? Oh, no, no. I have special instructions for you. We have security lifts that will take you directly down to his office."

Harry frowned, opening his mouth to protest, but he looked behind him, to the slowly gathering people, the crowd getting louder and larger. Someone in the middle of it yelled, "That's Harry Potter, isn't it?"

Harry looked back at the awed face of the guard. "O-Okay then."

The lift was small, the interior plush. They didn't stop at all the floors, though Harry knew it could from the excited chatter of Robert, who wanted to be called Bob, the day security guard.

Harry was apparently in the Minister's personal lift.

Bob stopped talking for a second, his eyes glancing again and again at Harry. "Um, would it be possible, do you think, sir, to get your autograph? It's just that my daughter is starting at Hogwarts this September, and we are all so relieved that everything is over now, and you are all she talks about, you know."

Bob held out a pad of paper and a ball point pen, which Harry eyed, curious. Hesitating, looking up at Bob's embarrassed but hopeful face, Harry took the pen and paper. "Thank you, thank you really. If, if you could just write a small note for her, anything really." Bob's face was practically glowing, how red it was.

Harry thought about what to put and tried to write carefully, wincing at his own bad penmanship. "Um, what's her name?"

"Elizabeth, but she goes by Lizzy."

Harry paused, then wrote, "Lizzy, Have a great and safe time at Hogwarts. Cherish it, time goes fast there. Harry Potter." Harry handed back the pen and paper, biting his lip. He didn't know how to finish it, just signing his name without any flourish. He wasn't even sure if he spelled cherish right. But Bob glanced over it, looking at it like it was pure gold as the lift slowed to a stop.

"We're here. Thanks again, sir."

Harry left the lift quickly, waving awkwardly, "Thank you, Bob."

The lift's door closed with a ping. Harry turned and looked at what appeared to be the reception area for the Minister's office. There was a sturdy dark wood desk in the back center of the room, behind which a young wizard was writing quickly, his head bent, his hair carefully parted. The carpet was a deep purple, the walls a very, very light lavender. To one side there was a few chairs and a table with a couple of glasses and jug of water. To the other side there was stiff looking black couch, a low dark wooden coffee table with folded newspapers on it, and two equally stiff looking arm chairs. In the wall behind the receptionist desk there were three doors. Various nondescript landscape paintings hung on the wall.

Harry took a deep breath, feeling vaguely ashamed of having written that note for Bob's daughter. He felt worried, as though signing anything was going to make him slowly turn into Lockhart. He also felt embarrassed, imagining Bob, so excited, giving that note to his daughter, and his daughter throwing the note to the ground and saying something like, "Dad, really, Harry Potter? Sure, I'm happy I don't have to go to Hogwarts run by evil people, but it's not like he's cool or something." Harry smiled a little to himself at that thought, feeling that must be true. It wasn't like he was movie star, or a famous athlete. He wasn't good looking or entertaining, so why would an eleven year old girl want his note?


	4. But the Next Great Adventure

**But the Next Great Adventure**

The scratching of the quill slowed down, then stopped, making the plush purple room very quiet. The receptionist pulled whatever he was writing up, looking over it.

"I'm sorry, Minister, I meant to get this letter out sooner, but with the French ambassador coming and then the whole fiasco with the muggle prime minister, I am still…"

The receptionist paused, glancing up from his frantic writing. "Oh! Oh, you're not Minister Shacklebolt." He looked surprised, then worried. "But then, why did you just come out of the Minister's lift? Why were you in the Minister's lift?" The receptionist stood up and walked quickly around the desk, moving closer. Harry opened his mouth, thinking of how to explain Bob, when the receptionist stopped, his eyes widening as he looked at Harry's face. Or more specifically, Harry's scar. Harry flattened his bangs reflexively.

"H-Harry Potter!" Harry really didn't want to do this again.

"Yes, that's me. Is Minister Shacklebolt in? If not, no worries, I'll just leave him a message or something."

The receptionist opened and closed his mouth a couple more times, his brain clearly trying to catch up.

"Uh, the, the Minister is um…" The receptionist moved back to his desk, looking at a calendar there. He flipped through some papers, clearly flustered, trying to regain his professional footing. "Ah ha, it looks that he is in a meeting at the moment, but he should be back at any minute, which I knew already, sorry."

Harry shook his head, smiling a little, trying to look easy going, wishing that the receptionist would relax a little. "No, I'm sorry actually, I don't know what I was thinking, really, coming here all of a sudden. I should have written to schedule an appointment. But, you know, the last time I was here, to get my…" Harry paused, feeling self-conscious.

"To receive your Order of Merlin -First Class." The receptionist finished for him enthusiastically. He seemed calmer, though bright admiration was still shining from his face.

Harry coughed, looking away. "Yes, when I came to the Ministry for that, Kingsley said that I could stop by whenever, said that I didn't have to be weird or formal about it or anything, but, well, I should have thought about how inconvenient it is for everybody for me to just show up…"

The receptionist shook his head emphatically. "It's no trouble, no trouble at all, sir. Would you like some tea or coffee while you wait for the Minister? He really should only be a few minutes at most."

Harry shook his head. "Ah, no, that's okay, I'll just have some water."

"Great! I'll get the water, you just sit where you like. My name is David, if you need anything else."

"Thank you," Harry said, sitting down on the stiff couch and reaching for one of the newspapers.

David quickly, almost eagerly, poured him water from the jug on the table on the other side of the room. Harry tried to shove aside the thought that David might be a bit of a suck up.

As David came closer Harry pretended to read the newspaper, as though absorbed. "You can read Chinese, Mr. Potter?"

David put his class and moved back to his desk, trying to look nonchalant while hitting his knee against the leg as he sat down.

Harry focused on the paper in front of him, realizing that it wasn't English with a tense feeling of embarrassment. Harry put the paper down with a sigh. "Please, just call me Harry. I'm not even eighteen just yet, so…"

David nodded, smiling happily.

"And no, I can't read Chinese, I was just looking at the pictures." Harry winced, realizing he sounded like a four year old.

David nodded again, staring at Harry openly. Harry looked around the room, down at the newspapers again, at his own hands, but each time he looked up, David was still staring at him. Harry thought about Ginny's words, her certainty that his celebrity wouldn't die down anytime soon. He felt little pinpricks of panic go up his spine at the thought. Surely people wouldn't act like this forever? Maybe people just needed to see how boring he is?

David was still staring. Harry coughed, thinking of how to make him stop. "So, ah, did you go to Hogwarts?"

"Yes, I graduated a few years ahead of you. I was a seventh year, in Ravenclaw, when you were in the Triwizard Tournament with Cedric."

"Did you know Cedric?"

For the first time since David realized who he was, he looked away from Harry's face, his smile falling. "Yes, I did. Cedric was my friend."

Harry nodded, gripping his own hands tightly as another awkward silence descended on the room. At least David wasn't staring any more.

He suddenly, inexplicably, intensely missed Ron and Hermione.

The lift's doors opened with a ping. Kingsley walked into the room in long strides, looking down at a clipboard. "David, could you get this over to Arthur Weasley…"

Harry stood quickly, incredibly relieved. "Oh thank God. I- I mean. Kingsley, hello."

Kingsley turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised. Upon seeing him his face he broke into a smile. "Ah, Harry, I was wondering if you might show up. Listened to the WWN, then?"

Harry nodded, stepping forward uncertainly.

"Alright, let's go to my office. David, please feel free to knock and let me know if I have any other visitors."

Kingsley ushered Harry into the door to the right of the desk.

Kingsley's office looked a lot like the reception room, except the furniture was nicer, softer looking, the desk in the middle was much larger, and there was a fireplace instead of doors behind it.

Harry sat down across from Kingsley at the side table rather than at the desk. "That was a nightmare. I-I'm truly sorry for just bursting in here. I've bothered everybody, I don't…"

Kingsley chuckled. With his deep voice it sounded almost like a rumble. "Do you make a commotion coming in?"

Harry nodded, putting his head in his hands. "There was a crowd, and Bob asked for me to write a note to Lizzy, and David went to Hogwarts and knew Cedric and was still impressed with me for some reason."

Harry looked up at Kingsley, who looked a little confused. Harry realized what he just said didn't make a lot of sense. Harry shook his head, "The point is, I'm sorry. I know you're a busy person, to say the least. I don't know what I was thinking…"

"This is all my fault Harry. Let me just tell you the password to my floo line, that way next time you don't have to go through all that hassle."

Kingsley walked over to his desk, ripping off a piece of parchment. "When you try to contact me through the floo, it will ask for this password, then it will tell you if I'm free or not. After that, if I'm free, just stick your head in and I'll help you out if I can."

Harry took the paper, folding it and putting it in his pocket. "Thank you, I really...that will make it much easier. But, well, Kingsley, I wanted to talk you about the plaque…"

Kingsley sat across from him again. "We aren't taking your name off."

Harry opened his mouth, surprised. "Well then…"

"And we aren't going to make your name as small as everybody else's."

Harry scowled. "I'm not even dead, Kingsley, why should my name be bigger than theirs?"

"Did you not die there, all the same, Harry? You made the same sacrifice as them."

"Yes, except for the part where they aren't coming back."

"You also did the small task of defeating Voldemort as well. Don't you think that might warrant a slightly bigger name?"

Harry shrugged. "That was more Voldemort being stupid than me doing anything all that exceptional."

Kingsley stared at him blankly for a moment, then he shook his head, laughing a deep, rolling laugh that sounded like thunder. "Don't make me hit you, boy. There is modesty, then there is just being plain old stupid."

Harry felt indignant. "I'm not trying to brag through false modesty, Kingsley, it was just a lot of…"

There was a soft knock on the door. David's head peered around the edge, finding them. "Sir, the head of the auror department is here and wants a quick word."

"Perfect, bring her in."

A woman, her hair up in a tight bun, her face heavily lined, her arm in a sling, came into the room confidently, her eyes landing on Harry, her eyebrows rising in surprise.

"Harry Potter!" She exclaimed.

"So I've heard." Harry felt like hitting his head against a wall. At least Harry could see her getting over it quickly.

She glanced at Kingsley over his shoulder briefly before barking, "When are you going to join the aurors, Mr. Potter? We are getting tired of waiting for you."

Harry looked at her, surprised himself this time. "I...I just wanted to take a break…"

Behind her there was another soft knock. "The assistant to the head of the auror department and the head of the magical law enforcement are here as well, Minister."

Kingsley smiled wider. "Excellent, excellent."

Two men came in, both looking haggard with days old stubble. One was shorter, his hair blonde and cut very close to his head. The other was Asian man, his hair unkempt.

They glanced quickly from the head of the auror department to Kingsley, to Harry. Their eyes widened. Before they could say anything, Harry burst out, "Hello, I'm Harry Potter."

Behind him Kingsley chuckled softly.

"Come everybody, let's sit."

Kingsley moved everybody to the couches, introducing Harry to them once everybody was seated.

"Harry, this is Matilda Athenahold, head of the auror department. Next is Akira Yamamoto, head of magical law enforcement. And this is John St. James, assistant to Matilda. Everyone, this is Harry Potter."

Everyone nodded to Harry, their faces calculating.

Harry coughed, wishing he had at least tried to comb his hair more before he left. He kept glancing at Kingsley, trying to communicate through panicked glances that he wasn't prepared to talk to these people at all.

"So, you were saying you were taking a break, Mr. Potter?"

Harry nodded, uncertain of what else to say. When she said it like that, it sounded very weak.

Akira Yamamoto spoke quietly, his eyes sharp. "You can do anything you want you know. And the auror department isn't exactly glamorous."

Harry looked back at him, wondering where that came from. Keeping eye contact, thinking of eating mushroom soup, or nothing at all, for nights on end with Hermione and Ron, Harry said, "I'm not glamorous."

Kingsley broke in, his voice light, but with an edge to it. "Now, now, Harry was meeting me about something else. This isn't an impromptu job interview. I just thought you all would be interested in meeting each other."

Harry felt a headache building at the back of his head.

Matilda Athenahold scoffed, taking a sip of water. "Like he'll even need an interview. Can you imagine if the public heard of us turning him away?"

Harry frowned. "I want a fair interview though. I mean, this isn't a position I'm taking lightly. If I'm not right for it, I'd rather you all didn't hire me."

John St. James looked at him with a quick smile. "I'm glad you feel that way, Harry, but it's neither here nor there. No one is going to turn you down for anything. We can't, especially now when we are trying to improve our public relations."

Kingsley leaned towards him. "The public's faith in the ministry has been shaken for some reason."

Harry grinned at him, but some corner of his mind wondered how much of this meeting Kingsley had anticipated happening.

Harry looked back over at the others. Their eyes were weary.

"Well, if I do ever come in for an interview, at least you all know my disarming spell is solid."

Kingsley laughed, but the others remained silent, their eyes pressing in on him.

Kingsley growled a little, annoyed. The others looked at Kingsley, frowning. "What is this all about then? You don't doubt he would make a good auror?"

Matilda Athenahold sighed, putting her cup down. "Obviously not. Clearly we think you would make an exceptional auror." Akira Yamamoto and John St. James nodded, their expressions softening. "It's actually why this is so frustrating. Because you seem like a responsible, reasonable young man, clearly powerful and talented. But you are just very recognizable."

Yamamoto pulled his hands through his hair, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, earlier… But look. You are very, very famous. You attract attention from the public, which isn't exactly what we want."

St. James nodded, adding, "And moreover, you would attract attention from enemies, which is…"

Harry nodded, his stomach sinking. "Not good. So...I can't be an auror?"

The three others looked at each other, uncertain. Kingsley coughed, his brow furrowed in concentration. "I'm sure that we would be able to work out something, Harry."

But Harry pictured it suddenly, very clearly. They wouldn't want to be hard on him in training in case he complained. He would have a hard time bonding with his teammates, as they would go from awed and weird around him to scoffing at him when they realized he wasn't particularly talented. No matter what he did, someone would think he was standoffish or bragging or being favourited. He would disappoint everybody, as there is no way he could live up to his reputation. He knew that they wouldn't put him out in the field because he would draw attention and wouldn't have the trust of his teammates. So Harry would become the auror department's press liaison or something, which made Harry feel vaguely nauseous. He stood up abruptly.

"Okay, well, I have to go. Kingsley…"

Everyone else stood up, too, a little alarmed. Kingsley reached forward, putting his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry...I'm sorry. The plaque…"

Harry nodded, giving Kingsley an awkward half smile, wishing he had never come.

Kingsley continued, his eyes sincere, "Don't become discouraged, Harry, we really can work something out. Your high profile is just a small hurdle…"

Harry stepped out from underneath Kingsley's hand, glancing at the others. St. James added, "Yes, really, you're Harry Potter, you can do whatever you want, we'll back you up."

Harry was realizing, with a sickening sinking feeling, how exactly untrue that statement was.

Yamamoto nodded, looking uncertain. Matilda just looked at him contemplatively.

Harry backed away, towards the fire. "It was nice to meet you all… Kingsley, the floo…"

"It works just the same as anywhere else when you are leaving the office, Harry. But why don't you stay, we can talk…"

Harry shook his head. "I really just came about the plaque...I'll talk to you later, thanks Kingsley."

Kingsley smiled at him, his eyes concerned. "You have my password, Harry, please do talk to me later, at any time."

Harry nodded to him, then to everybody else, and flooed home, his mind full of the image of them all standing there, looking guilty.

* * *

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Ron and I arrived in Australia, safely and as planned. We did run into a small problem right away, though._

 _My parent's weren't where I had left them._

 _Apparently they didn't like their neighborhood too much and moved without my knowing. Trying to track them down lead to a couple of days of panic on my part, with Ron being exceptionally supportive._

 _But we did find them. I knocked on their door and they didn't know me and I truly, truly never want to experience that again. It made me think of all those people who have Alzheimer's and how their families must suffer. Let me tell you, I'll be donating to those charities when I get back._

 _Anyway, I reversed the spell, and as far as I can tell, there are no negative side effects and they remember everything one hundred percent, which is a relief._

 _But, I should say that there were no negative physical side effects. Unfortunately there were other, negative, repercussions._

 _Harry, my parent's aren't speaking to me._

 _On one hand, I'm not surprised. On the other, I feel devastated. They won't let me help them pack, they flinch whenever they see my wand, and they ignore Ron completely. I don't know how to fix this, but I won't let them alone until they understand why I did what I did, or at the very least look me in the eye._

 _In that regard, Ron and I aren't sure how much longer we will be out here, as I'm not leaving with things as they are._

 _Ron wanted me to tell you that he says hi, that Australia is pretty, but way too hot, and he doesn't think he will ever get use to their accents._

 _He doesn't say it in so many words, but I think he means to say that he misses you. I certainly do. It feels odd to be in a new place, on an adventure of sorts, painful though it has been, without you here. When something random or unexpected happens, I keep looking around for you to make a snap, gut based decision and lead us somewhere, or come up with some half baked plan that you would somehow make work._

 _But Ron has been amazing this whole trip, just very mature and there for me. I don't know what I would have done if he wasn't here._

 _I will keep you updated on what is happening. Please write back soon. Is Grimmauld place positively glowing yet?_

 _Love,_

 _Hermione (and Ron)_

Harry put the letter down. It had been waiting for him on the coffee table when he flooed home.

Harry sat back with a sigh, glancing at the letter on the table. He felt, with certainty, that he could write today off as a bad day.

Hermione had done what she had done to her parents because of him, because she had to help him. And now here he was, useless celebrity, unable to help her, unable to help anybody.

Harry wondered if he shouldn't go out there, explain things to her parents, explain that it had been all his fault.

But if they were ignoring Ron, they probably would just ignore him, too. Besides, it was fairly obvious that Hermione's parents felt that their trust in her had been broken. He didn't think anything he said would help them trust her again. He figured she would have to earn it back from them, somehow. He also felt that, if he went out there now, he would be hindering what was building between Ron and Hermione.

Harry laid down on the couch, overcome with feelings of uselessness.

He had assumed that everything would be clear when Voldemort was gone. But it wasn't. The path forward has no markers, not even vague hints from Dumbledore, like in the past. What should he do now?

Now what?

* * *

The next day Harry was pulling down wall paper in his room, two walls finished, when he realized that he should probably tell the Dursley's that the war was over.

Harry rolled his eyes, already not looking forward to doing it.

Harry sat down on his bed, a section of wallpaper hanging from the wall, only half removed. He should write back to Hermione and Ron.

Harry looked at the gross, grimy walls that were exposed by the lack of wallpaper and thought that maybe he should buy some paint.

He didn't want to go to Diagon Alley, just imagining what uproar would start there. He wasn't even sure if wizards had paint shops, though they must.

Maybe there's a spell for it?

Harry looked through the now dust free library and found that there was, actually, a paint spell, though you had to spray it from your wand and couldn't just tap the wall and make the whole thing one colour.

Harry was starting to realize that magic didn't make everything easier, really. Though, he thought, trying variations of the spell to see what colour he like on one of the walls in the living room, it was certainly cheaper.

Harry tried the spell for an hour more, but could not, for the life of him, find a colour that he liked well enough to put on walls.


	5. Dwell on Dreams

**Dwell On Dreams**

Harry woke up flinching, blinking away images of green light.

He rolled out of bed, groggy. Through the threadbare curtains of his window Harry could see that it was still night out, either very early or very late. Getting up, he looked down at the street and thought it must be early. There was no one out, not even drunks, the streets empty and completely silent. Dew gathered and glistened on the trash bags in front of the houses, reflecting the dim glow of the street lights.

It was the kind of hour when he could feel the world asleep around him.

When he was little, before Hogwarts, he would wake up up in the cupboard, shivering or hungry, and would listen to the quietness of the house. The loudest thing would be the ticking of the clock, or the occasional shifting of the floorboards and pipes. His eyes half closed, his thin blanket around him, Harry could feel himself folding back into the quiet, it filling the corners and curves in his mind.

It was in those half awake moments that he would remember, very distantly, the feeling of flying. Or would know, in some small way, that magic, though he didn't know to call it that, was real.

Now Harry put his forehead against the cool glass of the window and sighed, his mind moving slow, his heart beating fast. He wished, strangely, just right then, just at that moment, that he was in the cupboard.

* * *

"Harry, would you stop throwing him up like that?"

Harry glanced over at Andy, her face stiff. He looked down at Teddy, his face in a wide smile, giggling, his little arms flailing.

"Oh, but he loves it. Why, are you worried I'll drop him?"

Andy pursed her lips. "I certainly hope you wouldn't drop him."

"I won't." Harry grinned, throwing Teddy up in the air and catching him, his squeals filling Andy's living room.

Andy sighed, putting her coffee down. "Well, if you insist on giving me a heart attack, I might as well leave and get some work done."

Andy worked sporadically, mailing potions to people who don't have the skill or the time to do them.

Harry glanced back her, frowning. "You said that you weren't busy."

Andy pulled her potion's robe on over her dress, slipped on some closed toed shoes, and put her hair back in a loose braid while talking. "I'm not, really. Nothing urgent, anyway. Mrs. Thomas has three of her eight children sick at the moment and is out of her mind with stress. If her useless husband would spend just five minutes helping when he got home then she wouldn't need me at all, but as it is, I know she will need more pepperup potion and fever reducer by the evening, so might as well do it now while you're here."

Harry nodded, holding Teddy in his arms for a minute. "Would you like me to make some lunch for you while you're working?"

Andy paused at the basement door, smiling. "That would be nice, actually. Careful though, I could get use to this. Feel free to use whatever is in the kitchen."

A few hours later Teddy was asleep upstairs, his fun morning putting him right to sleep. Harry chopped up some onions, adding them to the soup he was making, blinking back tears.

The door opened behind him, Andy entering the kitchen, humming an unfamiliar tune. She paused, looking at his face. "Are you alright?"

Harry laughed. "Soup making is just very emotional for me, Andy."

Harry rubbed eyes eyes with the back of his hands, blinking rapidly. "It's the onions."

"Ah, there's a spell for that, you know." Andy moved closer, giving Harry's nose a pert tap with the end of her wand.

Harry stopped blinking, all the stinging feeling gone from his eyes and sinuses.

"Thanks, that's handy." Harry moved back over the pot, adding some seasoning.

"I'm starting to question the education I received at Hogwarts. Sure, I can tell you Stubben's Five Laws of Transmaterial Transfiguration, but I can't tell you if there is a spell for cleaning windows or not. And guess which one I actually need?"

Andy leaned against the counter, absentminded putting the various vegetable ends in a neat pile. "That's because you never did your seventh year. That's when they teach you all the good stuff."

Harry looked over at her, his mouth opened in surprise and annoyance. "Really?"

Andy popped the end of a cucumber into her mouth. "No."

Lowering the heat under the pot with a tap of his wand, Harry scoffed,.

Andy smiled, chewing. "No, it's all high level theory, incredibly thick books and enough homework to make you weep."

Harry grinned, stirring lazily. "So sad I missed it then. Who knew running from Voldemort would be preferred to NEWTs year?"

"It's all about perspective." Andy threw out the vegetable ends and turned to look at Harry, her eyebrows furrowed. "But what are you going to do, since you haven't and aren't going to take the NEWTs. Surely they aren't going to make you, of all people, sit through them in order to become an auror?"

Harry frowned, turning away. He ladled soup into two bowls, putting on a plate and moved it all over to the small wooden table against the kitchen wall. He could feel Andy looking staring at him as she opened the draw and pulled out utensils. Harry sat down with a sigh.

Andy put a spoon down next to him, her face becoming more and more incredulous. "You can't be serious. They're going to make you take the NEWTs? You defeated Voldemort! What test is going to prove what we all already know! What until this gets out, the wizarding world will have a field day, making you take…"

Harry felt a deep stab of annoyance. He interrupted her. "They aren't going to make me take the NEWTs."

Andy looked at him, confusion taking over the indignation on her face. "Then what was with the long pause after I mentioned you becoming an auror?"

Harry pushed at his soup with his spoon, his chest feeling tight. "They don't want me."

Andy looked closer at his face, "They don't want you? Want you to what?"

"They don't want me to be an auror. I met with the head of the auror department and the head of magical law enforcement yesterday. They don't want me."

Andy's mouth dropped open, her spoon clattering to the table. She stood up abruptly. Harry looked up at her face, alarmed to see that she looked furious. She left towards the living room rapidly.

Harry scrambled from his seat, following her. "Andy! Andy, what are you doing?"

Andy reached for the pot of floo powder on the mantle. Harry stopped her from pinching any, looking at her face, her eyes filled with angry tears.

"After everything you have done for us, after all that they have done to you, after all that we have lost, they would take your dreams away from you, too? I won't have it. I'll go in there myself and make them sign you up, I swear…"

The longer she spoke, the more angry her expression became. She looked frighteningly like Bellatrix. Harry felt moved and worried at the same time. He never had anyone become so angry on his behalf before.

"I'm sorry Andy, I need to explain better. They didn't expressly forbid me from becoming an auror. Quite the opposite, actually."

Andy blinked up at him, confused. Her rigid stance deflated, her anger leaving her. She moved towards the couch. Harry sat in the chair next to it. "You definitely need to explain more, Harry."

Harry nodding, his expression distant as he tried to explain what happened yesterday. "They have concerns, real ones, that I'd just attract attention from bystanders and enemies."

Andy frowned. "It's not like non-famous auror's wander around without disguises Harry. Sure, you might not be able to do some of the entry level footwork, but that shouldn't stop you completely."

Harry shook his head, slumping back into his seat. "That's the whole thing though. The whole real thing. I wouldn't be able to do the entry level stuff, not really. And training me will be awkward for everybody. My teammates won't like me. Think about it, really, how could they? There will always be the suspicion of favouritism. I will let everybody down because I'm not actually all the magically talented, and I'm easily recognizable. So I won't be able to work in teams, and then what? I'd just be used for positive press, which I have no interest in at all."

"They said all that to you?"

Harry looked over at her, surprised. "No...But it was implied. Yamamoto said something about me being glamorous, and Athenahold looked worried about the press, like she had to take me in regardless of what she wanted. I could just tell they didn't want me."

Silence filled the room. Andy put her hand on the back of her neck, her face contemplative. After a moment, hesitatingly, she said, "Aren't you just making excuses?"

"What?"

Andy leaned forward, looking him in the eye. "Of course they're hesitating, Harry. You're a high profile person and will take extra work. They're busy people and think of you as a problem. But here's the thing, they think of every new auror as a problem. Perhaps your problems are unique, which adds a different level of stress, but it's nothing entirely new. Aurors aren't exactly known for being the cuddly, touchy-feely type. I can't even tell you how many times Dora came home full of angry tears, saying that they told her to go home, that they didn't want her. Dora was many things, but graceful wasn't one of them, and that would piss them right off. But the next day, Dora would get up and go back anyway. These people, they're...arseholes, really. They want you to prove yourself to them first. My guess is that you make them uncomfortable because you rather already proved yourself in a big way and they aren't sure what to do with it."

Harry leaned forward his mind racing. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"I mean, did you expect them to take you in with open arms right away? Everyone has to pursue their dreams, Harry. So why don't you go back and talk to them again about it?"

Harry opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. All he knew was that the idea of going back made his stomach drop and his heart beat faster.

"Harry, do you even want to be an auror?" Andy was looking closely at his face, concerned.

At that question Harry's mind ran many different directions, his emotions overcome. "Of course I do, I've wanted to be an auror since I was fourteen."

Andy gave him a soft smile. "Yes, because none of us have ever changed our minds on what we want to do. Everything we say at fourteen is ironclad."

Harry looked down at his hands. He had wanted to be an auror for so long. He thought it had made sense, what with Voldemort running around. But he wasn't running around now. Harry tried to imagine himself, proud, committed, and interested in his career. He tried to imagine that feeling while in an auror's uniform. But he couldn't. He couldn't even imagine feeling that way about any position at all.

"It's not just an auror I have a hard time seeing myself being. It's anything. If I don't want to be an auror, what else am I supposed to be?"

Andy sat back into the couch, her expression hard to read. "You were defined by Voldemort for so long, who are you with out him?"

Harry looked up at her, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, that's true. If that's all done, the-Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen-One, who am I now?"

"Whatever you want to be."

Harry found that thought to be terrifying and freeing all at once. "I don't know that I don't want to be an auror exactly…"

Andy shook her head. "Maybe you just need to figure out who you are without Voldemort looming over you. Then maybe being an auror will still make sense, maybe it won't."

Harry sat back with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "So, how do I find out who I am?"

Andy smiled at him, patting him on the hand. "If you figure out a definite answer, be sure to let us all know."

* * *

 _Dear Hermione (and Ron),_

 _I'm really sad to hear that they didn't take it well. Are you explaining everything to them? Be sure to throw my name under the bus if you need to._

 _I think that you will just have to build trust with them again. I'm not sure how to go about doing that, so I know that's not overly helpful. I'm also sure you already thought of that._

 _I'm finding out that there are a lot of things I don't know. Small things like, who am I? And, What do I want to do with my future? I'll let you know if I figure anything out._

 _Please let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I want to help and feel totally useless just sitting here._

 _Tell Ron that my heart aches for missing him, too. And to remember the sunscreen charm._

 _I really do miss you guys, though. I hope that you patch things up with your parents quickly for a lot of reasons, but one of them is definitely because it's weird having you guys gone. Maybe because we lived in a tent with each other for a year?_

 _Love,_

 _Harry_

Harry scanned through the letter before rolling it up and putting it the barn owls pouch. He was standing in the middle of the post office in Diagon Alley with his hood up, feeling like he looked very suspicious. The office clerk kept glancing at him, frowning. But he figured the office clerk would be doing something much louder than frowning if he put his hood down, so he left it on.

He knew he was being impractical, but he didn't want to buy another owl yet.

Harry made his way through the crowd to the apparition point, trying to keep his face hidden. He stood at the point a beat too long, hesitating, before steeling himself. He wanted to start figuring out who he was post-Voldemort, and he wanted to do it without this loose end in place.

It had been surprisingly easy to find the Dursley's. They had been in the phone book. It made Harry roll his eyes, wondering what the whole point of moving had been if they aren't actually going to hide. But then, Harry figured, it wasn't like Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters would have gone looking through the phone book.

Harry concentrated, thinking of the address, hoping to end up in the back yard.

A few seconds of the horrible sensation of being squeezed later, Harry was standing in the middle of a pile of trash by the side of a boring, middle class suburban home. Harry stumbled out of the pile, gritting his teeth. At least the Dursley's would find that fitting.

Harry walked around the edge of the house, looking at the shiny silver numbers by the door. One hundred and ten, Lankwood Avenue. Harry straightened his back, his stomach clenching uncomfortably, and rang the doorbell.

At first no one answered and Harry half hoped that he would just be able to leave a note. He would have just owled them if he thought that they would have ever read anything given to them from an owl. But his hopes were dashed as he heard Petunia's heeled shoes clopping down the hallway to the door.

The door swung open, Petunia's face moving swiftly from a pleasant smile to scowl. She looked pretty much just the same as she did a year and a half ago.

She reached out, grabbing his arm, and pulled him into the house. Harry, surprised, stumbled in. Petunia closed the door sharply behind them. "What are you doing standing out there dressed like a freak?"

Harry smirked, looking down at his cloak and robe. He had forgotten that he had dressed like a wizard to go to Diagon Alley. "Terribly sorry Aunt Petunia. I won't be staying long. I just wanted to let you know that the war is over now."

His aunt's face was still flushed in embarrassed irritation, but her expression shifted into something harder to read. The kitchen door opened behind her and Vernon stepped into the hallway, his face becoming instantly redder as he spotted Harry. "You. What are you doing here?"

Harry opened his mouth to answer when heavy footsteps started down the stairs, revealing a still large, but not overly fat Dudley, whose mouth fell open when his eyes landed on Harry. All three Dursley's were staring at him now. Harry fought not to shift uncomfortably. "Perfect, you're all here so I won't have to repeat myself again. I was just telling Aunt Petunia that the war is over now, you can about your lives worry free. At least worry free about this."

The Dursley's stared at him for a long moment. Harry frowned. He figured that would have some questions. If he knew they wouldn't, he really would have just left a note. The silence continued and Harry shrugged, moving back to the door. "Well then…"

"Who won?" Petunia asked suddenly, her hand at her throat, her face still hard to read.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Well, as I am still alive, obviously I did."

Vernon glared at him, confused and scoffing. "What do you mean, boy? You won a war?"

Harry looked at all three of the Dursley's faces and realised they didn't know anything. He knew that, on some level, but he was realising quickly how much they didn't know. "Yes… I defeated Voldemort."

Petunia paled dramatically while Vernon and Dudley glanced at each other, still not getting it. Vernon barked out from behind Petunia, "The evil bloke who killed your parents? You killed him?"

Harry frowned. "It's a lot more complicated than that, but essentially."

The hallway was silent once more. Vernon paled, a little frightened, looking at Harry differently. Dudley still looked confused but was eyeing Harry thoughtfully.

Petunia moved her hand from her throat to her hip and then back to her throat again. "Thank you."

Harry's mouth dropped open a little in surprise. "What?"

Petunia shifted uncomfortably, her eyes looking over his shoulder. "Thank you for getting rid of that monster."

Harry's mouth fell completely open now. He stuttered out, "You-You're welcome."

Petunia made eye contact with him for a moment. Harry became aware that he was actually a few inches taller than her now. Her voice was crisp, "Well, if that's all."

Harry nodded, his eyes glancing back over at Vernon and Dudley. "Bye then."

He turned toward the door, his hand on the knob, when Petunia spoke again, her voice back fully to its usual unpleasant tone. "I trust that you won't have anything else to say to us again?"

Harry looked back at Vernon and Petunia, their plain, boring, hallway. Their stiff faces, judging him. He smirked. "Don't worry, this is the last you'll hear from me."

He opened the door, stepped out quickly, and closed it behind it with a snap.

At least it was over.

Harry moved to go around to the side of the house when the door opened behind him. Dudley looked at him uncomfortably before stepping out to the front. He started down the steps, waving Harry over to the side of the house so they would be less visible.

Harry looked at him, his eyebrows raised. Dudley really did look a lot healthier than he used to. "So, then, you're some magic war hero?"

Harry opened his mouth to contradict him, but then paused. There was too much truth in that to say no, regardless of how silly it sounded. Harry shrugged. "I guess."

Dudley nodded, a small smile on his face, "I'm not too surprised. I remember how you were in that alley way. I was a gibbering idiot but you stayed calm."

Harry smiled back awkwardly, uncertain of what to say.

Dudley coughed. "Is, uh, is there someway to contact you every once and awhile? You know, Mum and Dad, they're...I don't blame you for not wanting to talk to them again. I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to talk to me again either, but I dunno. We did grow up together. I'll want to know how you're doing, you know, sometimes."

Harry eyed Dudley, considering. Dudley was at least proof that some people can mature and change.

"Yeah. Yeah, you know, I don't really have a place that you can mail letters to, or phone or anything. But if it doesn't weird you out too much, I'll send an owl out sometimes."

Dudley hesitated, shuffling. "If that's the only way… Then yeah. But, uh, how…?"

Harry smiled. "You just put the letter in the pouch attached to their leg. They aren't ordinary birds, so you just tell them my name and they will come to me. I'll tell them to wait for you to write a reply."

Dudley nodded. They shuffled awkwardly. Harry really wanted to go. "Well, then, goodbye. I'll...write."

Dudley nodded and reached out his hand. Harry shook it, nodding his head once, before letting go and disappearing with a crack.

Later, half heartedly cleaning the grime off of the windows, Harry thought about if he actually wanted to ever write to Dudley. Just because he became less of a berk now didn't mean that Harry forgot all those years of Harry Hunting.

Half way through getting the gunk off of the corner of the window pane, Harry stopped, sighing, leaning his head against the glass. He had forgotten about Harry Hunting though. He hadn't thought of it for a long time.

This new, free, Voldemort-less Harry, did he want Dudley to be part, any part, of whoever he was going to become?

Harry thought about that morning, when he woke up very early and for a moment missed the cupboard. He thought about his time there, playing with broken army men, about getting his Hogwarts letter addressed there. He thought about Harry Hunting, about Aunt Petunia aiming a soapy frying pan at his head. He imagined a ten year old Harry, short, small, an unloved, looking up at him. And Harry knew, whatever had happened since, whoever he became, that that Harry would always be a part of him. And Harry didn't want to ignore him. Ten year old Harry had been ignored enough without adult Harry abandoning him too. Harry shook his head, wondering how, though that thought didn't make any sense, it felt right all the same.

Harry would write Dudley at Christmas time.


	6. Should That Mean It's Not Real?

**Should that Mean it's Not Real?**

The Burrow was quiet. There wasn't even a sound from the ghoul in the attic. All Harry could hear was wind chimes coming through the open window, the sound of wind going through trees, and everyone once and awhile a sniffle and the faint murmur of voices coming from upstairs.

Harry frowned while sipping his tea, feeling anxious. He was as use to feeling anxious in the Borrow as he was use to it being quiet there. After a moment Harry heard a door open and close softly, then the slight squeaking sounds of Ginny coming down the stairs.

She sat down next to Harry, her face weary, her eyes a little red. She rested her head against his shoulder, taking a sip of his tea. "Mum doesn't want to see you."

Harry nodded, putting his arm around Ginny's shoulder. Ginny sighed. "You know that it's nothing to do with you, right?"

Again Harry nodded, playing with the ends of her long hair.

Ginny gave a another shaky sigh, taking another sip of Harry's tea. "This morning Mum was cleaning out one of the boxes from the back of the coat closet. It was full of old junk; Dad's burnt out wires, a rusted potion's mixer, things like that. Towards the bottom of the box, Mum pulls out a little black box, which let out this little puff of black smoke that formed the word surprise. It was really faded, very hard to read. But Mum starts sobbing. Great heaving, wracking sobs, like the kind I haven't heard since Fr-Fred's f-funeral…" Ginny's voice came to a stop, the tears that had been forming since she started talking falling from her eyes. She took another sip of tea, Harry started rubbing small circles on her shoulder. She continued, her voice thick, "T-Turns out that it was a present for Mum, from Fred, back when they were twelve or so. There was a bracelet in the box apparently. Mum kept crying, saying that she didn't know what happened to the bracelet and now Fred would never be able to make her another one…"

Ginny hiccuped, her head in her hands. "It-It always scares me when she gets like this. Dad's the only one who seems to know what to do but he's at work. I just didn't want to be alone with her crying in her room, hiding under the covers. Mum never used to…"

Ginny grabbed a tissue from the end of the table, blowing into it. "I'm sorry Harry, I know that this isn't exactly fun for you, but I didn't know what else to do. I can't stand the idea of being alone with her like this."

Ginny looked up at him, the red in her eyes bring out the yellows and greens in her brown irises. Her face was splotchy, her nose red from blowing it earlier. "I'm a terrible daughter."

Harry leaned forward, kissing her forehead, "No, you're not."

"What's going to happen to her while I'm at school? What's going to happen when Dad's at work and no one is visiting? She's so fragile right now, Harry. Maybe I should wait to go back…"

Harry cupped Ginny's face in his hands, his thumbs by her temples, which he starting moving in slow circles. Ginny closed her eyes, leaning more towards him.

"I don't think your Mum would like you pushing back school more for her, Ginny."

Ginny slumped against his chest, her arms loosely circling his waist. "I don't want to go back to Hogwarts."

Harry stroked the back of her head, her hair glinting in the sunlight, showing many different strands of color. Some were light, almost blonde looking, others a dark auburn, some the color of blood, others of ripe wheat. Her hair smelled of flowers, sunshine, and clean human, almost the smell Teddy had in his hair but somehow deeper. Harry put his cheek on top of her head, breathing deeply. "Why not?"

"I didn't exactly have fun the last time I was there. And now, after everything, it just seems kind of...in the past. I can't imagine going there and laughing with friends, taking classes, like nothing has happened. In my mind, even with the castle all fixed, that wall always be the one Fred died by, and the courtyard will always be where Colln died. The dungeons will always be where I, or Neville, or Seamus, or one of my friends were tortured. How can I pretend to be some school girl again there?"

Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. "I imagine everyone will feel that way. I think that's why it might be necessary to go. None of you are going to be able to pretend it's all alright, so no one is going to hide from it, I think. You all will be there to support each other. And, by being there and everyone acknowledging it, I think that people will be able to move on better. You know, if you all didn't come back to Hogwarts the place would become a nightmare. Hogwarts has been, and will always be, more than the battle that was fought there."

Ginny looked up at him, her face a lot calmer. "When did you become so mature, knowing exactly what to say?"

Harry shrugged, grinning down at her. "It was in 'Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches.'"

Ginny snorted. "What you just said was in Ron's stupid book?"

Harry nodded, his face straight. "Verbatim. The whole speech. At first I thought it seemed pretty specific, not to mention prophetic, considering it was written before the battle, but you're the third or fourth witch that I've said it to, and it's worked like a charm everytime."

Ginny, her face blank, maintaining eye contact, suddenly, without anything showing her intentions before hand, jabbed Harry violently in the side, getting him right between the ribs. Harry yelped, jumping up from his seat.

Ginny stood up slowly, an evil smile on her face. "Oh, I'd run Harry Potter. You're about to become the The-Boy-Who-Got-His Arse-Kicked."

Harry laughed, moving quickly to the other side of the table. "I'd like to you catch me with those short legs of yours, tiny."

Ginny leaped, cat like, over the table. Harry laughed and yelled in surprise, dodging towards the front door.

Ginny chased him all over the front garden, listing all the different curses she was going to use on him, her face in a wide smile. Harry just yelled back that the other girls he gave the speech to chased him as well, but not quite like this.

Ginny guffawed aggressively, half exasperated, half amused. She got him with a tripping hex, Harry sprawled out on the grass. She knelt down beside him. Harry, still laughing, looked up at her as she moved closer and kissed him softly, for one breath then another, before moving her lips over to his ear and whispering, "I win."

Harry's face changed, the laughter slowing into something calmer. He sat up, following Ginny has she sat back. He put his cheek next to hers, feeling the smoothness of her's against the stubble that had been growing on his for the last few days. He moved his arm around her hips and whispered in her ear, "Oh no, I think I'm winner here," before kissing her for much longer.

The garden was quiet for awhile.

* * *

"After Charlie finished Hogwarts, he had no idea what he wanted to be either."

"Really?" Harry felt pretty surprised. Charlie always seemed so determined or in control or something like that.

"Yeah, he spent a year wandering around the globe, doing odd jobs here and there. He has some great stories from that time, but says that he wouldn't do it again, exactly."

Harry did a loop on his broom, thinking. Ginny absently tossed a quaffle from one hand to the other. "Maybe I could do that while you all are at Hogwarts. You know, I've never even been outside of the United Kingdom?"

Frowning, Ginny flew closer to him, gently throwing him the ball. "You would have a hard time doing odd jobs here and there. I mean, of course you're well known here, but you've become rather famous all over the place, especially in Europe and the U.S."

Harry spun the ball in his hands, feeling both amazed and annoyed. "Good grief, why?"

Ginny shrugged, dashing forward and grabbing the ball out of his hands before he could blink. He turned to look at her as she flew behind him.

"You have quite the story. People seem to like it. Fleur says that you are almost as famous in France as you are here, and Charlie says that he gets questions about you all the time in Romania…"

Harry sighed, "Well, whatever, I have enough money to travel for a year without working."

Ginny stilled, her eyes wide. "You do?"

Harry nodded, feeling surprised she didn't know. "Yeah, I'm not trying to brag or whatever, but I'm quite well off."

"I mean, everyone knows that Potter's had some money but I didn't know it was that much."

Harry hesitated, wondering if he should tell her. But not saying anything now seemed like hiding it. Making an awkward circle around Ginny, Harry coughed. "Yeah, well, I was finally able to get my financial affairs in order a few weeks ago. Between becoming of age while on the run and the, uh, tensions between the goblins and I after the whole thing at Gringotts, I didn't know what was going on with my accounts either. But I learned that, despite spending money on Hogwarts all those years and everything, my account actually grew. Turns out my grandfather invented the Sleekeazy potion, and his estate, the Potter account, is making money from that still."

Ginny's mouth fell open a little in surprise. "The Sleekeazy potion, that is something, but…"

Harry interrupted her, feeling embarrassed and just wanting to get it over with. "Then, of course, there is the Black account. They were old money, you know, so there was a lot of gold in there, too."

Ginny opened her mouth to say something but Harry plowed on. "And, uh, there is a rather substantial reward that comes with getting an Order of Merlin. They wouldn't even let me donate it, like I did with Voldemort's money."

"Voldemort's money?" Ginny looked vaguely overwhelmed.

"Yeah, turns out that he had a large stash of money in the Malfoy's manor. They wanted to give it to me as an extra thank you, but the whole thing made me feel gross, so I donated all that money to Hogwart's charity. You know, for orphans or whomever needs help buying supplies and what not."

Ginny looked at him, opening and closing her mouth, her face getting redder and redder. Finally she burst out, "I don't want to you wander around abroad!"

Harry looked at her, surprised. "Why not?"

Ginny tossed the ball back to him a little roughly and muttered something. Harry flew closer, looking at her red face. "I didn't hear you."

Ginny glared at him but looked strangely vulnerable. She looked like a mix of the Ginny he now knew and the one he met when he was twelve and she put her elbow in the butter dish. Quietly she muttered, "Without me. I don't want you to wander around abroad without me. It's just that we already spent a year apart…"

Harry felt warmth from his heart go directly to his face. His smile was uncontrollable.

Ginny glanced up at him, her face turning impossibly more red. "I don't want you to think that I'm clingy or something. I hate that kind of thing. But you know, I was hoping to fire call you, and see you during Hogsmeade weekends, and maybe sneak out to Grimmauld place every once and while…"

Harry nudged her with his broom. "I'd love that. And I'll wait for you."

Ginny's eyes snapped to his, wide with astonishment. "What did you say?"

Harry looked at her, unsure of what to make of her reaction. "I love the idea of seeing you on the weekends and you sneaking out, all of it. And I'll wait for you to get out of Hogwarts before I travel anywhere, but I do want to travel somewhere when you're done, so think of where you want to go. Oh, but what are you thinking of doing after Hogwarts? Is it something that you'll need to start right away?"

Ginny blinked a few times, and said quietly, "Quidditch. I'd like to play quidditch."

Harry nodded, looking thoughtfully into the distance. "Usually the tryout season for the league is in the fall right? So you'd have time in the summer, wouldn't you? Well, obviously your training and getting ready for everything would come first, so if that summer didn't work out, I suppose we could just wait until the next off season, no rush…"

Harry was almost unseated from his broom. Ginny's arms were wrapped tight around his middle, her broom nudging his so that they were spinning in a slow circle. Harry smiled wider, hugging her back. "What's all this about, then?"

Ginny squeezed tighter, her face buried in his chest, her voice muffled. "I just like you an awful lot, Harry Potter."

* * *

The hole in the couch had widened considerably under Harry's bored hands. The grey-ish, yellowish stuffing on the inside was spilling on to the floor. Harry decided that it was time for the couch to go. Most of the furniture actually.

Cutting up the furniture and vanishing it was almost as satisfying as knocking down the wall around Mrs. Black. He cleared out everything from the living room except for one handsome darkwood bookcase, the wireless, and the now dust free grandfather clock which chimed cheerfully instead of wheezed.

He had left the kitchen alone as Mrs. Weasley had made it the best room in the house ages ago.

He only left the chest of drawers in the spare bedroom with the hole in the wall.

In his own bedroom he only left the frame of the bed. He vanished the threadbare carpets, the ruined curtains and the wobbly dresser.

In the hallway, he vanished the moldy carpet to find some very sturdy looking floorboards. He had worried that bugs or anything else might have been eating away at the wood underneath. But they looked perfectly intact. They just needed a sanding and some finishing.

He stood in the doorway of the bathroom, twirling his wand. He didn't like anything in the bathroom but he wondered if water would just spray everywhere if vanished the sink. He was thinking of turning off the water when he realised he didn't know how to do that. Shrugging, he moved on up the stairs.

Sirius' room had to go. Harry knew that. Sirius wouldn't have wanted his teenage bedroom to become a shrine to him. It had to go.

But Harry didn't start vanishing things at will. He carefully mutter the counterspell to the permanent sticking charm, slowly peeling off the pictures of the dead Marauders and putting them in a neat pile on the bed with the letters and papers that he picked up from the floor. He took down the muggle posters, leaving them in a pile on the floor which he vanished all at once when they were all down. He removed the Gryffindor banners, the curtains, the rug. He tucked the letters and pictures into his back pocket and got rid of the bed. He considered the sturdy wardrobe in the corner. It was a perfectly fine piece of furniture but he vanished it anyway.

Outside the door he removed the plaque that had Sirius' name. He found he didn't really have the energy anymore to remove any more furniture after that.

Later, lying on the floor of the living room with a pillow under his head, listening to the wireless which was sitting on the fireplace mantel, Harry realised his mistake of vanishing furniture before buying new ones. But still, he didn't regret it.

Nonetheless, he was once again bored. His mind, unoccupied by chores, circled back to the question he had been trying to avoid.

What was he going to do?

He wished he had all of the pamphlets from fifth year about different career options still. Sitting up, Harry realized he could probably get those pamphlets again. He just had to contact McGonagall.

He pinched the floo powder, said Hogwarts Headmistress's Office, his head twirling through the green flames, before it even occurred to him that she might not be there. It was summer after all. Harry never thought of it before, but where did the professors go on holiday? Some of them must be married. Did they commute to work?

His head stopped spinning. Harry looked around, trying not to breath in any ash. To his surprise and relief McGonagall was sitting in her office, her stern face writing quickly across a parchment. Harry felt inexplicable relieved at the familiar scene.

"Professor McGonagall, um, is now a bad time?"

McGonagall jumped, her hand going to the wand on her desk. But when she saw his face, she smiled, standing up quickly.

"Potter, what a surprise! No, now is a good as time as any. Come in if you'd like."

Harry grinned, then grimaced, pulling the rest of his body through the fire.

Brushing off his clothes he moved towards McGonagall's desk. The office looked the same as the last time he was here, a couple of months after the final battle. McGonagall's version of the office has less purple and fewer trinkets than Dumbledore's office. Fawkes' stand was gone from its corner, leaving the space with a roomier feel. But Harry noticed that there were a few more of her personal touches here and there. A tin of biscuits on the corner of her desk, a tartan blanket over the back of her chair, a very detailed tapestry of what looked to be various animals transforming into different animals on the wall.

Behind her desk Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at him while Snape's glittered with a sneer. Harry nodded to them, trying to ignore how his stomach dropped and he heart started beating faster at the sight of them. Dumbledore smiled and gave him a small, cheerful wave. Snape's sneer deepened.

"For what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall gestured to the seat across from her desk.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Harry said quietly, his eyes down cast. "I was hoping that you could give me the pamphlets the all the fifth years get about career options?"

McGonagall raised her eyebrows at him. "I thought you wanted to be an auror. I recall telling that monstrous woman that I would definitely see to it that you would become one, in fact."

Harry frowned, finding it hard to met her eyes. "It might not be the best career choice given my...my being well known."

McGonagall sat back in her chair, her face serious. "I'm sure there are ways around that…"

Harry nodded, "Andy said as much, but...She also pointed out that I might be making excuses. And I think she's right. I'm not sure if I want to be an auror. I don't know what I want to do, actually. With Voldemort gone, the funerals over, and everyone moving on, I...I'm not sure what I should be doing. It makes me uncomfortable that whatever I do, I'll be scrutinized. And being an auror…"

"People will be expecting a lot of you." McGonagall finished for him.

Harry's eyes snapped up to hers. "Yeah, I mean, yes. Yes they will. And I'm not, I'm not sure that I can…"

"You'll think that you'll disappoint everybody if you join the aurors." McGonagall finished for him again.

Harry swallowed, nodding.

McGonagall looked at him consideringly for a moment. "Potter, I didn't argue with that pink horror of a woman just because I disliked her. I fought for you because I know that you'll make a great auror. Do you know why?"

Harry shook his head, leaning forward, wondering what she was going to say.

"Because you are nosy."

Harry sat back in his chair, his mouth opening a little in surprise. Behind McGonagall Dumbledore chuckled a little and Snape scoffed.

McGonagall continued. "You have a substantial amount of power in you, you are quite gifted at Defense against the Dark Arts, you think well on your feet. All of these things will help you be an auror. But what will make you a great auror isn't that you will swoop in and defeat bad wizards with Merlin like strength, but that you are persistently, ceaselessly nosy. You get a hunch, a thought in your head and pursue it to its end. Goodness knows I've witnessed you three poking into things that weren't your business time and time again. The Philosopher's Stone, the Chamber of Secrets, the Ministry of Magic, Draco Malfoy. You could have walked away from any of those problems, ignored the nagging questions in your mind, told yourself that someone's else will deal with it. Most people do, but you don't, you can't. It's not in your nature. And that's why you would make a great auror, Harry."

McGonagall stood up and walked around her desk, putting her hand on Harry's shoulder. "You are right. Many people will expect a great deal from you, and it frequently won't be fair. But you can't let other people or your fame stop you from being who you are, Potter."


	7. What is Right and What is Easy

**What is Right and What is Easy**

 _Harry,_

 _How are you? Still very famous and hating it?_

 _Even though Hermione insisted that I write this time, she still had a million and one things she wanted me to tell you. But mate, I honestly can't remember most of them, so I'm going to write what I want instead._

 _Australia is still bloody hot even though it is suppose to be winter here. I can't imagine what it's like in the summer and I don't want to. The wizarding world here is really different, much more relaxed than back home. You know, in the U.S. they are very strict about it and at home we have a lot of rules, but nobody seems too fussed about it here. It's not like they're apparating in and out of busy muggle streets or whatever, but they will have magic shops just hidden here and there in an otherwise muggle area. They also don't dress differently than muggles. One shop owner said that they only wear robes on very special occasions, can you believe that? They also only use this things called pens rather than quills. The shop owner couldn't believe that we still use quills and him and Hermione had a good laugh, I don't know why. I don't know, Harry, it doesn't seem overly wizard-like to me here._

 _Hermione's had a rough time of it. Her parents are speaking to her again, but they mostly seem to be yelling. Her dad seems more ready to makeup, but her mom is something furious and stubborn to boot. I think I know where Hermione got it from._

 _Let me tell you, meeting my girlfriend's parents this way probably wasn't the smartest idea. They mostly just seem annoyed by my being here. And you know me, my temper isn't great. I just want to go home, honestly. But Hermione seems different around her parents, younger or something. She gets all weepy when they fight and I don't like it. I'm glad she's not here alone. At least I can cheer her up every once and awhile._

 _I do remember one thing she wanted me to ask though. Something about how Grimmauld Place is coming along? Are you remodeling it? If you are, you should probably ask for some help, mate. It's harder to do those domestic spells than you think._

 _Cheers,_

 _Ron_

Harry put down Ron's letter with a frown. He had just finished removing all the unwanted furniture from the house and was sanding the hardwood floors that had been under the disgusting carpet. The spell for it didn't seem too hard, though it did make an awful lot of dust and he was having trouble with the spell that Ginny had shown him to remove it. He couldn't stop sneezing so he stopped halfway down the hallway upstairs and went to have some lunch.

As Harry ate his way through his sandwich, he thought about what McGonagall said. Don't let your fame decide who you are. Nosey. He wasn't nosey, was he? It's not like he went around gossiping and trying to get into people's personal business.

And it was all well and good for McGonagall to tell him not to mind the fame and expectations, but it was another thing entirely deal with it. He went to Diagon Alley to pick up a book of cleaning charms and had to apparate from the bookstore in order to get away from everybody. He was at fault mostly because he had forgotten his cloak, but did people have to crowd in like that, trying to touch him?

He didn't see how he was going to be able to do much of anything at all like this, let alone be an auror. He knew people just felt grateful, but he could help but think bitterly that he would prefer it if they weren't.

Harry threw the rest of his sandwich away, feeling restless. He needed Ginny to show him the dust removal spell again before he could move on with sanding the floors.

"Ginny!" Harry started coughing up ash as he turned his head and breathed in to yell for her again. "Ginny!"

He heard feet coming down the stairs and felt mildly surprised to see worn house slippers, then Mrs. Weasley's face, as she crouched down to see him. "Harry, dear! Looking for Ginny, obviously. Let me go call her in from outside, she's flying at the moment. Hold on a second."

Mrs. Weasley moved away from the fire, disappearing around corner. She looked better than the last time he had seen her, her hair was more kept, her face had more colour. She still looked too thin though, her shoulders a little hunched as though bracing against an unfelt wind. Harry smiled a little sadly to himself, thinking that the tables have turned and now it was him thinking that she needed to eat more.

Mrs. Weasley once again came into view. "She'll be in in a flash, Harry, she just needs to put her broom away."

Harry nodded, smiling at her. "How have you been, Mrs. Weasley?"

She looked at him consideringly for a long moment, then sighed. "I don't suppose there is any reason to lie to you about it as you already know everything. I'm sorry I didn't see you the last time that you were here. Seeing Fred's present gave me quite the shock. And though I know I'm going to see him again, it didn't make being unable to see him now any easier."

Harry nodded, wishing he could pat her hand.

Molly gave him a watery smile. "And how are you dear?"

Harry opened his mouth to say fine, but stopped. Mrs. Weasley had given him an honest answer. "I've been better. I'm finding that I don't like being famous very much. I can't believe that some people do it on purpose. It's very restricting."

Mrs. Weasley nodded at him, her expression hard to read but very gentle. "We will all adjust. Me, you, and the Wizarding world. Give it time."

Ginny appeared next her mum, her face in a bright smile. "Harry! What's up?"

Harry smiled back. "I need your help."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Dust?"

Harry grinned, "Dust."

Ginny flooed into his living room mocking him. "The-Boy-Who-Can't-Dust doesn't have the same ring to it, but it certainly…" Ginny trailed off, looking around the room with her mouth open.

"Harry, what have you done?" She looked aghast.

Harry looked around, too, not understanding. "What do you mean? I'm remodeling?"

Ginny looked at him with both eyebrows raised. "This is not remodeling. Look at it!"

Suddenly, behind Ginny, a green fire burst into existence in the fireplace. Andy's head quickly followed.

"Harry!" Andy looked around the room, spotting him and Ginny at once. "Oh, Ginny, hi."

Andy smiled at Ginny politely. Ginny smiled back, suddenly looking nervous. "Hello, Mrs. Tonks, how are you?"

"Oh I'm fine, but, uh, Harry, if you aren't busy, do you mind watching Teddy for the afternoon? Mrs. Thomas has a fourth child sick now and isn't feeling well herself and needs some help. And Ginny can come, too, of course, if you'd like?"

Harry and Ginny made eye contact, shrugging. Ginny answered, "That will be fine, Mrs. Tonks. I've been wanting to get to know Teddy better anyway."

"Great, thank you both so much. And call me Andy, please. Come on through, if you're ready now?"

Harry and Ginny nodded, following Andy through the flames.

"He's down for a nap now, but I think he'll be waking up pretty soon. He ate before his nap but he will be hungry when he wakes up. He'll also probably need a nappy change. I should be back in a few hours at most. Thank you both again." Andy left in a flurry, grabbing bags that made loud clanking sounds and boxes that had various dried and smelly plants in them. She waved cheerfully before closing the door, her crack of apparition following a moment later.

Teddy had woken up a few minutes after Andy had left, his tiny face and hands scrunched up with various complaints. Harry changed his nappy and gave him his bottle absentmindedly, well in practice now, while Ginny watched, fascinated, over his shoulder.

Harry held him against his shoulder, patting his back and humming. Teddy gave a small burp and turned his head against Harry's shoulder, grabbing the collar of his shirt in a tight grip. Ginny moved closer, her eye wide, lightly touching Teddy's back. Teddy turned to look at her, grinning, his hair turning a bright red.

"You know, I've never actually held a baby? Bill was a pro at it by the time I was born. Charlie never much liked babies, but Bill, he said that he would love it best when we were tiny. Then Charlie would take over when we were toddlers, liking that age better."

Harry couldn't help but feeling surprised. It made sense, Ginny was the youngest and then went to Hogwarts when she was eleven. It wasn't like she had any more access to babies than Harry did. But Harry couldn't help but think that Ginny would be a natural at it. Like she would just intuitively understand babies. Then he wondered if he was just being sexist. She wouldn't know what to do with them any more than him just because she was a girl.

"Do you want to hold him?" Harry asked, smiling when she looked both happy and horrified with his question.

"Yes. No. I mean yes, but I'm not sure…"

"Just hold your arms like this...there you go. Be sure to hold his head, though don't worry too much. He's supporting himself more and more everyday." Harry placed Teddy carefully in Ginny's arms.

Ginny's posture was stiff but her face was soft. Teddy smiled widely and Ginny smiled back just as wide, naturally. Teddy waved his hands around, his small fingers wrapping around Ginny's hair and pulling. Ginny moved her face towards Teddy's, laughing as his arm pulled her closer.

"Such a cute baby, yes you are. I think you might look a lot like your dad, you know? Same nose at least. Be happy you had such attractive parents, yes." Ginny didn't quite use baby talk, but she spoke more gently than Harry ever heard her speak before.

"You thought Lupin was attractive?" Harry leaned against Teddy's crib, grinning.

Ginny glanced up at him, rolling her eyes. "Yes, Lupin was good looking, if you looked past how tired he always looked. There was something gentle about him. He just seemed approachable and mature at the same time."

Harry's grin slipped, thinking back to Lupin's concerned face giving him chocolate after trying to teach him the patronus. Lupin had saved his life few times over teaching him that.

Ginny spoke quietly, her voice a different kind of gentle than the one she used with Teddy. "I'm glad that they made you his godfather, you know. I think you're the perfect choice."

Harry glanced back at her, surprised. "Why?"

Ginny shrugged, smiling a little sadly down at Teddy. "No matter how much we all love him, we won't be his parents, none of us. And you'll understand that better than us. More importantly, he'll understand that you understand that. So even when does bothers him, he won't feel alone in any regard. He'll have all our love, and your love and understanding. I just...I think it's a good thing."

Harry smiled at little sadly back, noticing how much more relaxed Ginny looked holding Teddy now.

A few hours later, Harry was starting to understand how Andy felt when Harry didn't want to give Teddy back that first day.

"But you've been holding him for hours now. Give him to me, Ginny Weasley."

Ginny spun away from his reaching hands, making Teddy laugh. "No. He's too cute and you get to see him all the time."

Harry sighed, "Ginny, I don't get to see him all the time. And I promise to bring you around more. I just want my godson. Look. Look at him, he clearly wants me to hold him."

Teddy looked away from Harry, grabbing Ginny's hair again and pulling her closer until Ginny rubbed his nose with hers. They both giggled. Harry rolled his eyes, feeling irrationally betrayed.

The front door opened, Andy's voice getting louder as she walked down the hall. "It's all settled now, all five of them are resting and that useless husband of hers is helping out, finally. I swear every time I see his face I just want to…" Andy paused, looking from a smiling red haired Teddy and Ginny to Harry's frowning face.

Harry pointed to Ginny, wincing as he realized how whiny his voice sounded but continuing anyway. "Andy, Ginny won't give Teddy back to me."

Andy looked at Ginny, grinning, her face pleased. "He's such a sweet boy, isn't he?"

Ginny nodded emphatically, "He really is."

"Well, you are more than welcome to visit him whenever you like."

"Really?"

"Really."

Andy and Ginny beamed at each other from across the living room. Harry was pleased they were getting along, but still, Andy was back and he barely got to see Teddy at all. "Andy…"

Andy glanced at him, grinning, before sweeping forward and gently taking Teddy from Ginny. Teddy's hair turned brown.

"Harry, you have to learn to share. But why don't I come around Grimmauld place tomorrow with Teddy. I'd love to see what changes you're making?"

Harry and Ginny said no at the same time. Harry looked over at Ginny, displeased. Ginny raised one eyebrow at him before speaking, "It's a disaster."

Harry scowled, "I'm just in the middle of remodeling, is all."

Ginny scoffed. "Yeah, that's not what that is."

Harry's scowl deepened. "Then what would you call it?"

Ginny grinned slyly. "Chaos."

Andy glanced between the two of them a little wearily. "Here, why don't I provide a little motivation, Harry. Finish one room and I'll bring Teddy over?"

Harry's scowl lessened and he shrugged. "Sounds easy enough."

Ginny managed to keep her face straight, but her voice wobbled in amusement a little as she spoke. "I know a good book for things like this. We've had to remodel The Burrow a few times, though I know it doesn't look like it. I asked my mum about letting you borrow it a few days ago, but she said she couldn't find it. Left it in the attic when she was doing something up there and hasn't seen it since. Seems the ghoul did something to it. But she told me the title and we can go to Flourish and Blotts and get it if you'd like?"

Harry nodded and they made their goodbyes with Andy and Teddy, apparating from the front step to the apparition point closest to the bookstore. Harry took Ginny's hand, smiling at her smile as they made their way down the street. "I think it's rich of Andy to tell me to learn to share when she was much worse the first time I watched Teddy. Plus, did you see how she took him from you, didn't even ask."

Ginny laughed, patting Harry's arm. "I think Andy is really nice. I dunno, she has never been mean the first few times I've met her, but there was something a little...intimidating, I suppose. Plus, she just looks so much like…"

Harry sighed, looking down at Ginny. "Like Bellatrix. She really does, but sometimes she looks a lot like Tonks and other times she looks like neither of them. I think it's just a matter of getting to know her instead of her relatives."

Ginny nodded, frowning. "Also, I think it was a little strange, still is, that my mother killed her sister. We all know she is nothing like her sister and hasn't spoken to her in years, but still…It's something me and her are going to have to talk about sometime, lest it become the elephant in the room."

Harry opened his mouth to say something when he accidentally knocked into someone, making them drop their bag of dried potions ingredients. Harry knelt down, helping them pick it up, "I'm sorry, terribly sorry about that, let me…"

Harry placed the items in their bag and handed it to them. The middle aged witched looked a little bothered but said nicely enough, "No worries, no worries, thank you for picking it up…" She glanced from the bag to Harry's face and dropped the bag once more.

"Harry Potter, what...I...Harry Potter!" Her voice got louder as her face become more red. She looked mortified and excited all at once.

Her voice carried over the voices of the chatting people around them, who glanced over at the commotion, their eyes widening, turning towards their own companions and exclaiming, pointing towards him. Everyone started talking louder, moving closer. Ginny swore behind him while Harry felt irritated with himself. It had only been a few days since he had made this exact same mistake.

The crowd pressed in closer now, the bag of potions ingredients getting crushed under people's feet. Everyone was talking at once, Harry couldn't really make out what anyone was saying through all the noise. Harry felt a small hand take his and all of a sudden he was being squeezed, tighter and tighter and then he was on Grimmauld Place's front step, Ginny looking a bit nervous.

"I shouldn't have done that." She bit her lip, worried. "Not only did I do under aged magic, but magic I'm not suppose to know…"

Harry looked at her, many thoughts running through his head. "Uh, well, it's not like they will be able to tell it's you, most likely. If someone does bother you about it, I'll talk to Kingsley…"

Ginny looked surprised. "You'd pull your weight for me?"

Harry shrugged, his face darkening rapidly. "Someone should benefit from all this. I'm certainly not."

Ginny looked up at him, her eyes trailing over his stormy face to his stiff shoulders. Hesitatingly she said, "You...You could pull your weight in order to benefit yourself, you know…"

Harry scowled at her, a scowl a million miles away from the one he had given her at Andy's. "I'm not going to turn into some great big ponce, throwing my name out there and expecting things. I'm not Malfoy or Lockhart."

"Not all famous people are Lockhart or Malfoy, Harry. It's not just going to go away if you never deal with it. Maybe you could...I don't know… maybe you could give an interview, let people know what you are up too, that you appreciate their gratitude but remind them that our community is small, and that you would like to be able to walk down the street without a mob forming…"

Harry let go of Ginny's hand, feeling frustrated. Bitterly he spat out, "You want me to give an interview. What a great idea. Maybe I can also start having signing events. Maybe I should contact that bloke from sixth year who wants to write my biography. Oh, I know, maybe I should start my own line of … of… I dunno, hair care products. The slogan can be 'You too can have ridiculous hair like the Chosen One! Only ten galleons.' Then maybe I'll win the Witch Weekly's Best Smile Award or whatever it's called."

Ginny glared up at him, her hands on her hips. "First, it's called Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, and you've won it twice already."

Harry's mouth opened in surprise. Ginny took a step forward, menacingly. Harry fought not to take a step back. "Second, ten galleons would be ridiculously expensive to try to get hair like yours on purpose. Let's be real Harry, no matter how popular you are, no one wants that."

Harry felt a little indignant, but Ginny wasn't done yet. Now standing toe to toe with him, she poked him in the chest. "And third, I'm just trying to help, no reason to jump down my throat. The face you're making right now reminds me a lot what you looked like in fifth year and let me tell you, no one is putting up with that crap again. I made a suggestion to try and help you but clearly you'd just rather pout about it instead. Well guess what, Harry Potter, if you are going to be a great big prat, you can whinge to yourself."

And with that Ginny turned out her heel, disapparating on the spot.


	8. It is the Unknown We Fear

**It is the Unknown we Fear**

The nightmares usually covered a wide variety of topics. Some were about Voldemort coming back. Cunningly simple and realistic, the dreams would just be Harry going about some ordinary task and his scar suddenly bursting in fiery pain, Voldemort's feelings of victory ringing through Harry's body. It would take at least an hour for his heart to stop beating frantically at those. A cup of soothing tea, a silly book, muttering under his breath over and over again, "That wasn't real, just a dream, just a dream."

Some were of his friend's deaths, also realistic, more like memories than dreams. Seeing Fred and Colin and Tonks and Remus and Lavender, the smell of blood and dust and fire.

Then there were ones of death itself, the oily feel of the resurrection stone, the flash of green light, Voldemort's tattered bit of soul. Dumbledore.

But this dream was different than ones he has had before. It was of the long walk from the pensieve to his death. The walk through the castle was more silent than when it truly happened, the corners of the halls darker, the stones in the walls emitting frigid, stale air. The lawn to the forest was empty, only spots of blood, dark batches of ash. There were no bodies, no Ginny.

The trees looked black, the ground grey in the night. He turned the stone three times in his hand, but no pale figures came forward. He turned it again, but there was only a high pitched sound, like ringing in your ears after an explosion, or a far away wail of someone in great pain, and the stone broke down the center, falling from Harry's hand and disappearing into the darkness.

He continued to walk forward, alone, and entered the clearing where Voldemort had killed him, but no one was there, no death eaters, no Voldemort. Only Harry and the encroaching darkness, the black branches of the trees looming nearer, the shadows they casted in the bald light of moon moving underneath him, until it was just him suspended in an increasingly smaller circle blackness and shadows, his heart hammering with terror, his breath short with panic. Soon the darkness was on his skin, in his eyes and ears and mouth, taking over him until it was the only thing left. The only thing, besides a small voice, smooth and clean as obsidian telling him, "Everyone dies alone."

Harry's eyes snapped open like they do when he comes out of a nightmare, but he found that he wasn't sweating and his heart wasn't pounding. Strangely, as though he was in the room, Dumbledore's voice spoke clearly in Harry's mind, "It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."

Blinking rapidly, tears falling freely down his cheeks, Harry calmly rolled over and went back to sleep crying. The rest of his night, into the morning and early afternoon, spent in a full, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Harry poured himself tea, putting in just a little sugar and a small amount of cream and placed it on the scrubbed table next to his toast and eggs. He didn't turn on the radio or read like he usually did, instead letting the silence fill his brain. He ate mechanically, unthinkingly, and when he finished he stared down blankly at his empty plate for ten minutes.

He eventually moved, like he had since he had woken, not quickly or slowly, but absently, washing the dishes, sanding the floors, all of the floors, not leaving one piece of wooden floor untouched. Eventually the whole house was covered in a fine dust, making everything a grayish colour. He didn't sneeze once though, as though his sinuses were also absent.

He sat down in the middle of the living room with a puff of dust and stared down at the floor. He needed to contact Ginny and apologise for taking his frustration out on her. He needed to finish setting up a room so that Andy and Teddy could come over. He needed to go to the ministry and talk calmly and deliberately with Athenahold about how he could become an auror. He needed to set up an interview to make sure that everyone understood that he appreciated their appreciation, but that he would like to be left alone. He needed Ron and Hermione to come back so that Ron would knock his shoulders with his whenever he was being a moody prat, so that Hermione could pat his arm and give him advice about what to do with himself that he hadn't ask for but probably should listen to. He needed Ginny to touch his hair and face and stand on her toes and kiss him, just because.

He needed to shake off the empty feeling the stupid dream had given him. Shrug it off like a heavy cloak in the heat. But it just wouldn't leave him. The dream continued to drape darkness on him like no other dream had. It just wouldn't let him go.

Sighing, he laid back on the floor, not caring about the gritty, uncomfortable feeling of the wood dust as it stuck to his arms, hands, hair, and clothes. Closing his eyes, he remembered the keen sound of the resurrection stone breaking, the terror of the blackness consuming him. Harry never felt less like the master of death than he did at that moment.

Frowning, Harry thought about Dumbledore's words that spoke so clearly in his mind after the dream. His dream wasn't actually about death. He knew that. He had died and that all consuming nothingness had not been part of it. True death was unknowable, but he knew enough about it that he knew fearing it was pointless, like fearing the passage of time or change in general. Death could be meet like anything else unexpected and new, with a clear mind and an open heart.

So if that feeling wasn't death, then what was it?

He thought of Dumbledore's words again. "It is the unknown we fear…"

Harry turned on to his side and looked across dirty grey floors to the dirty grey walls and realised with disappointment that this feeling of dread had nothing so much to do with death and more to do with his fear of the unknown. He had no direction, no clear idea of his wishes. The future was uncertain, the features of its landscape as dark as the other side of the moon. He was entering the next phase of his life undefined either by friend or enemy.

It occurred to Harry, just then, that this might be what becoming a free adult means. No longer being guided by anything, having to make decisions solely for himself. Making up the meaning as he goes.

When he sang vaguely patriotic songs about freedom in primary school, this isn't exactly how he imagined it feeling.

Harry stood quickly and moved to the front step, apparating without hesitation.

The kissing gate looked so different in the sunlight, in the middle of the summer, that Harry turned around on the spot making sure that he was in the right place. He should have apparated to the edge of town in case a muggle saw him, but the graveyard was empty. He made his way past Dumbledore's family, past his own ancestors, to his parent's graves and sat down, much of him still covered in dust.

The sun was at a low angle at this point, warming his back gently as though he too was a stone in the yard. A small breeze brought scents of flowers from the neighboring church's garden.

"Mum, Dad, I… I don't know what I'm doing. What's more, I don't think...I don't think that if you were here, you'd be able to tell me what to do. I'm… I think this is stuff I have to figure out on my own."

Harry sighed, touching his parents names with the tips of his fingers. "Were you guys the same, after Hogwarts? Uncertain? You all must have gotten married pretty quickly, you were so young. Did you guys just get married because you loved each other? It wasn't because you were frightened, right? I'd like to think so…"

Harry looked out across the graveyard to the fields beyond, everything washed in a golden light. "I have things that I want to do. I think I'd make a good auror. I think...I mean, I never felt this way about anybody, the way that I do about Ginny. Teddy, his future is so open now, there are so many thing I want to give him. But I don't want to do these things because I'm afraid of what happens if I don't do them, you know?"

Running his hand through his hair, Harry let out an aggravated groan. "How could you know? I don't even know what I mean. It's just that...Getting a job, getting married, having kids, working until I retire… it all both sounds too good to be true and pointless, like a checklist you have to mark off before you die. It's not that I don't want to do these things, it's just that I want to mean to do them."

Harry laid the palm of his hand against the warm headstone. "Voldemort took away all of my options, he took away my childhood, he almost took my very life so many times. Now that he's gone I don't want to thoughtlessly, without meaning, live the rest of my life as though doing a paint-by-the-number."

"I know that that darkness in my dream wasn't death, I know it better than almost anyone, so why does it seem related?" Harry rested his head against his parent's tombstone and thought about the empty feeling of his dream. He suddenly felt a deeper understanding of Voldemort. If Voldemort thought that that was what death was, he could almost understand his wish to run from it.

But Harry understood that he was smarter, more whole in all ways, than Voldemort ever was. He understood it the way that Hermione remembered facts, or the way that Ginny played Quidditch. He just was. He knew that that darkness wasn't death, wasn't fooled by that feeling of fear the way that Voldemort was. Instead Harry tried to pair that feeling with feelings outside of death. He moved through words of despair until he found some that matched, like two bells hitting against each other and ringing the same pitch. Lost. It felt like being lost. And alone, though the word alone didn't seem to cover that feeling completely. It was a alone in a way that transcended the fact that there were no other people in the dream.

So the feelings of the dream that wouldn't leave him were related to death, but weren't about death, instead it had to do with feelings of being lost in complete isolation?

Harry shook his head, dust in his hair falling in front of his eyes onto his parent's grave. He felt like a failed philosopher. Why was he thinking about this dream so much? It was just a dream, not a prophesy. Just a nasty dream.

But he could not shrug it off. He couldn't brush it away by calling it a dream. The darkness might have been created only in his mind, but it sunk into his heart and was staying there. He couldn't avoid it any longer.

Where was one of Dumbledore's vague truisms when he actually needed one? Where was his speeches about love and the meaning of life when he…

Unbidden, Dumbledore's words came to mind, "Do not pity the dead, pity the living and above all those who live without love."

Harry's mouth fell open in surprise, thoughts moving rapidly through his mind, moving like electricity running through his body. The dream wasn't about death, but living. It was about living your whole life without love. Not just romantic love, but love for life. Living as though you were dead, not caring, just going through the motions. Living like nothing matters, when it all matters so much, so painfully much.

Harry stood, his heart pounding, his fist clenched. He felt a surge of determination, the electricity of his realisation turning into something fiery in his veins, a sense of victory all his own. For the first time since he walked willingly to his death, Harry Potter wanted to live. More than anything else, he wanted to be alive.

* * *

He apparated to the gate of the front garden at The Burrow. The light was melting into a darker shade of gold, purpling at the edges. Ginny was standing amongst the flowers, swinging a gnome over her head, her expression displeased, her hair mused. She was clearly swearing liberally under her breath.

Harry stepped through the gate as Ginny let the gnome fly. "Ginny."

Ginny turned to look at him, surprised. Her expression shifted to uncertainty after a beat. "Harry, what are…"

"I love you." Harry's mouth fell open in shock at himself. His heart started being wildly, his brain screaming in panic. _What, you didn't plan to say that. What?!_

Ginny's mouth fell open as well, her face turning bright red. "What?"

Harry's hands flailed in front of him awkwardly, whatever gesture he was trying to do lost on the both of them, "I...I...I love you."

Ginny continued to stare at him, her expression shocked.

Harry stopped flailing. His heart was still thumping crazily in his chest, but his mind ceased its panicked screaming. He hadn't meant to say it but since he had, he realized it was true. More calmly, he said, "I love you. I have no idea what I'm doing or what I truly want and I'm kind of a mess right now, but I do know that I love you."

Ginny closed her mouth but her face remained bright red, her eyes wide. She continued to stare.

Harry, trying not to start flailing again, stuck his hands in his pockets. "I know that we only have been dating for two months, really. I mean, counting the time in sixth year I guess more like five months, so I'm not sure how to count that. I know that we didn't talk at all last year. But, I mean, I stared at you on the Marauder's map the whole time I was on that endless camping trip. I thought about you all the time. I think about you all the time. I thought about you right before I died, you know. You were my last true thought. I thought about that look you get when you're passionate about something, which is most of the time."

Harry was so well past embarrassment at this point he almost felt serene. He never felt so exposed in his life. Not during occlumency, not when his name came out of the goblet, never.

Ginny moved a step closer, then another, haltingly. She only stopped when she was toe to toe with him. Her face was no longer red, but her eyes were, blinking back tears. "I love you, too, Harry. I always have."

Then she kissed him. He didn't know for how long and he didn't particularly care. For a time everything was Ginny and that's all anything needed to be.

Later, Ginny stepped back and took Harry's hand, sitting down in the grass in the dim light. Harry followed, sitting so their shoulders and knees touched, their hands still intertwined.

"Wow, I really should get angry and yell at you more often if this is what happens. I'll have to make a mental note, Harry Potter likes being told off. Kind of kinky, really."

Harry knocked his shoulders against hers, grinning. "Shut up."

Ginny rested her head on his shoulder, smiling widely. "How much do you think Witch Weekly would pay for that scoop?"

Harry rested his cheek on her head, his smile so wide and uncontrollable it was starting to hurt his cheeks. "Hmmm, If I see that scandalous news article and you with a nice new broom, I'm going to be awfully suspicious."

Ginny laughed, "You'd still love me anyway." Only her hand's gripping tighter betrayed her nerves at saying that.

Harry felt his like his face was going to split, how much he smiling. "Yeah, I would. But we would have words. Words like, I trusted you! And, wow, that is a really nice broom. And, yeah, maybe I can understand if it's for a broom like that."

Ginny laughed louder at that, "I would only betray you for top galleon deals, Harry, no worries."

"I'd expect nothing less from my beloved girlfriend."

Ginny rubbed her cheek against his shirt a little before suddenly moving back, her hand wiping at her face. "Harry, what is this? Are...Are you covered in dust?"

Harry's smile dimmed a little, "Yeah, about that…"

* * *

Harry expected Ginny to start in right away with teasing him but instead she spun in a slow circle, taking in the whole living room, her face in a frown. "Harry...I think there are squatters living in better conditions than this."

Harry wanted to roll his eyes, but Ginny's face was covered in genuine concern. Harry frowned, looking around the room fully for the first time in a long while.

The room was mostly bare, everything covered in grey dust, the lighting dim. One wall was covered in a mess of different paint tests, their overlapping colours ugly and haphazard. To punctuate the miserable scene, the grandfather clock let out a chime, wheezing once again.

Ginny muttered the spell for cleaning dust and the thing immediately improved, but the room was still far from welcoming.

Sighing, Ginny looked at Harry, her hands on her hips. "What colour do you want the walls in here?"

Harry shrugged, pointing to the wall with all of the paint on it. "I couldn't decide."

"Do you mind a suggestion?"

Harry shook his head, leaning against the wall, anticipating at rant. He got one. "First, this room is never going to be very bright as there is only one north facing window, so this room in particular is going to need brighter colours. Other rooms, ones that can have bigger windows, we can play around with the colours more. But here, I think this room needs to be a nice bright white. The moulding should be something a little darker, but still cheerful, like an egg blue, or anything pastel, it kind of depends on what furniture you want to get. Have you contacted Luke and Wells or the Wizard's Cottage, whoever you're buying furniture from, about setting up a time for furniture delivery?"

Harry shook his head, bewildered.

Ginny's stance shifted, her expression becoming incredulous. "You have started looking at furniture, right?"

Harry shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling alternately defensive and embarrassed, and shrugged.

"Harry...What have you been doing here?"

Harry looked down at his shoes and muttered, "Moping mostly, I think."

He could hear Ginny moving closer, only looking up when her hand touched his arm. She smiled at him and reached up, brushing the rest of the dust off of his hair and patting his clothes, slowly removing the worst of his earlier roll on the floor. Softly, her eyes warm, she said, "I think that's enough moping then. I'll write to Bill and he can help with the structural changes you want to make. Mum can also help, she's really good at stuff like this. I think that you should write to Luna, ask her for advice about what colours to paint the different rooms when we are finished with the windows. Don't give me that look, she has really good colour sense you know, she won't give you rainbow walls, I promise. Then you should write Neville, ask him what plants would be good for air quality or whatever. I can help you pick out furniture, though maybe we should wait until Ron gets back, get a bloke's opinion as well so it doesn't look too girly. Hermione will probably organize the library with or without your permission."

Ginny took his hand, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles. "You see what I'm saying Harry? You don't have to do everything alone anymore. No more walking off to face things all by yourself, you understand?"

Harry nodded, his face in a small smile, his eyes very serious. "I think I'm starting to, yeah."

 **A/N I really got a lot of reviews recently, which was tons of fun, thank you all very much. Please continue to let me know what you think, especially as this was kind of a heavy chapter.**


	9. Turn on the Light

**Turn on the Light**

"This was an interesting choice...are you...is this suppose to be...honestly Harry, I'm not sure why you would put a big hole here?" Bill glanced between Harry and the hole as though questioning Harry's mental state.

"I think it's a lovely start to a bar." Both Bill and Harry looked at Luna questioningly. Luna ran her fingers over the rough edges of the hole thoughtfully. "It's a little too round right now, obviously. It would be hard to stand glasses up right on it. But then, we are wizards. Is that your intent, Harry? To make a round hole in the wall to talk to people through, but to make it more interesting by having to make people put sticking charms to the bottom of their glasses?" Luna's perpetually wide eyes widen further, coming across a problem. "But then, what will happen to the liquid inside the glasses, Harry?"

Harry's mouth opened a little, baffled, "I'm not…"

Luna clapped her hands together once, "Lids, very tight lids should work, wouldn't they? I have to say Harry, I'm surprised you are being so creative with your house designs."

Bill and Harry exchanged glances. "Um, actually, I'm not trying to make a bar or anything, I just needed to get rid of Mrs. Black's painting. I thought it might open up the space to take down the wall, so I just sort of left it there."

Bill nodded his head, remembering. "Ah yes, that awful painting. That explains the scorch marks then. Must of been satisfying?"

"Not really, actually, mostly it was disturbing." Harry shrugged, frowning.

"All paintings hold some part of the original's personality, their memories, their hearts, essentially. Not to mention the artist's. To burn a painting, even a muggle painting, is serious business." Luna looked at the wall sadly then turned to look at Harry consideringly. "But not so serious that you should feel bad about it, or add it to the weight you already carry around."

Bill leaned against the wall, his brow furrowed, "The weight Harry already carries around?"

"You know, how he feels responsible for the people who died fighting Voldemort?"

The silence was tense. Harry and Bill looked to different corners of the room. Luna started humming quietly under her breath.

Bill coughed, "Ah, well, I should get started then. I can finish knocking down this wall, and I can widen some of the windows, but Mum will have to come over to do some of them, as they are tied with other structures and she's better at this than me."

"I'll get started on the walls downstairs. We will follow Bill. After he finishes a room, we'll paint." Luna left the hallway, heading downstairs, twirling her wand into the air and catching it with ease.

Bill looked at him as Luna left, the scars across his face less pink than they used to be, but still twisting his face, as though he was frowning at him through an old window. "It's not your fault at all, you know? We all just feel incredibly thankful you stopped him, not angry that you didn't stop him sooner, or whatever stupid thing you're thinking."

"You don't know how much time I wasted, hiding." Harry hadn't even realized he thought that until he said it. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Even Ron got exasperated with all that time spent not doing anything at all. If I had just thought to ask Dumbledore more questions while he was alive, or was more decisive… Teddy wouldn't have to…"

"Ron was in a pitiful state when he came to us, Harry. He knew he had done wrong, that blaming you for how the war was going was wrong. Frankly, I'm surprised you and Hermione forgave him so readily. I'm not sure why Hermione did, but I'm starting to see why you did. He was wrong, Harry. I think if you talked to Ron about it, he'll be the first to say he was."

Bill clapped Harry on the shoulder, hesitating, "You...You did more than anyone had any right to expect of you. Try to be less hard on yourself."

Harry looked up into Bill's sincere face and nodded uncertainly, once then twice.

"Good. I'll get started, then."

Bill turned towards the wall as Harry walked downstairs, feeling off balance, both heavier and lighter at once.

A few hours later, Harry was pouring three cups of tea and stirring the last touches of seasoning into the soup. He poured it into three bowls and placed everything on the table next to a basket of bread and a small plate of butter. "Honestly, I'm glad you were here instead of Ron, Bill. Who knew that that one wall had a nest of magically fortified spiders?"

Bill shook his head, grimacing. "The Black family remains a mystery to me. Why make the spiders stronger? Just… why?"

"I didn't know that you knew how to cook, Harry." Luna was taking tiny sips from her spoon, looking like a small, large eyed animal drinking from a questionable puddle. "But this is actually quite good."

"Thank you, I think? But yeah, I actually learned how to cook a number of dishes at the Dursleys. The soup's pretty easy."

"I thought that they weren't much about eating at the Dursley's, something about your fat cousin's diet? If you were cooking so much, why did Mum need to send food?"

Harry looked down at his soup, stirring absently, trying to think what to say. There was a long pause. "Full of tense silences today, you two are." Luna continued to eat her soup in her bizarre fashion.

Bill sighed, "You mean to say that they were just not feeding you? Good grief, I just keep putting my foot in it today. Also, that's terrible."

Harry gave Bill a small smile. "I know."

They ate the rest of their meal in a mostly relaxed silence, occasionally talking about the improvements that they made today, quidditch (Bill, mostly) and Heliopaths (Luna, entirely). Bill reclined back in his seat when he finished, and looked at them both fondly. "You two should come over sometime. Fleur likes to have a steady stream of guests."

Luna nodded, smiling softly. "I would love to, you both have a lovely home and it makes me feel safe. Sometimes I miss it. Daddy and I are still patching things up at the house. The house itself and also us, as I'm still upset he betrayed you, and he is still upset about everything, I think. Anyway, you all are in the prime location for water crestolini, and they're quite rare."

Harry smiled at Luna, feeling strangely moved at her anger at her father. "You know, I've forgiven your dad. I can understand why he did what he did."

Luna frowned. "I'm glad you have, Harry. I haven't quite yet. But I'll get there."

Harry nodded, understanding, before looking at Bill. "I'd like to come too, Bill. Of course to see you and Fleur, but also to see Dobby." Luna and Bill both nodded, looking uncharacteristically solemn.

"Well, just owl and we'll set up at time. Thanks for lunch, Harry."

"Yes, thank you."

Harry shook his head as they all stood and moved towards the fireplace. "No, thank you both for helping me out so much today. The place already looks ten times better."

"No problem at all." Bill and Harry shook hands, Bill leaving first in a burst of green flames.

"Anything for you, Harry." Luna put her hand on his arm, the other taking a pinch of floo powder, and looked up at him, her eyes focused. "Helping you paint was fun anyway, even though your tastes are a little plain."

Harry smiled and rolled his eyes. "I don't want a painting of a tree moving in the breeze spanning the library, no matter how relaxing it would be. Imagine Hermione's reaction."

Luna somehow looked both disapproving and amused at the same time, "Indeed."

* * *

This was Harry's third rotation around the shop. He was feeling unpleasant and judgmental and knew that underneath his hood his face resembled Aunt Petunia's too much for comfort, but he couldn't help it. None of the owls were anywhere near is great as Hedwig.

"Sir...Do...Do you need help?" The shop worker stood at the other end of the aisle, looking intimidated. Harry realized he had been stalking around the store with a dark cloak over his head, scoffing at owls for the last half hour. He was probably scaring the worker half to death.

"Uh, no. Or. I don't know. Do you have any...I don't know, special owls? Just, unique, or, or very nice or something?" Harry tried to sound as pleasant as he could, but he knew that he was being rude, not taking his hood down.

"All our owls have excellent direction and name recognition. We don't have anything too fancy here, but we do have some lovely owls this way, if you'd follow me." The shop worker kept giving Harry nervous glances over his shoulder as they walked to the back of the shop. "Here we have some eagle owls. Some think them very regal and they certainly leave an impression."

Two Eagle owls looked down at Harry, blinking slowly and hooting softly to each other, as though they were considering him worthy or not. Harry was strongly reminded of Draco Malfoy. Grimacing, Harry glanced around at the other owls as the worker continued to talk about the different attitudes of eagle owls versus barn owls. There were a number of brown owls with their heads tucked under their wings, a few smaller scoop owls play fighting, and a snowy owl, so like Hedwig, but then not at all, it's disinterested eyes a bright yellow instead of amber.

Harry felt his heart sink. Though it seemed absurd, he wondered if he was ready for another owl.

Sighing, Harry moved away from the still talking shop worker and moved towards a darker corner, mostly filled with various treats and ailment potions. Blinking, his eyes adjusting, he realized that there was also an owl there as well. It was mostly black, though it's feathers gradually became grayer, then white towards its stomach. It looked very soft, it's wide, pitch black eyes looking at him a bit sadly, but very sweetly.

"What about this one?"

The shop worker moved closer, leaning around Harry to look. "Oh. Yes, that one, the Sooty Owl. He has been here for two years now. Got him as a chick from Australia, but he's a bit moody, kind of gloomy, really."

Harry moved closer, holding his arm out to the bird. The bird blinked at him a couple of times before tentatively settling on Harry's arm. He was noticeably lighter than Hedwig, but just a little smaller. He was just as soft as he looked, his feathers fine and fluffy at the same time, more like a cloud of feathers than anything organized. Harry moved his hood away from his face, making eye contact. The bird's dark eyes and demeanor, his general sweetness, made Harry think of thestrals. Pulling the hood back over his face, Harry turned towards the shop owner. "I'll take him."

* * *

Neville was sitting cross legged on the floor, Ginny laying on her stomach next time him, her chin in her hands. They were both staring at the Sooty Owl, who was staring back, looking bashful. Or as bashful as owls can look.

"He is just so cute." It was all Ginny could say. She kept reaching out to stroke him. "I just want to squeeze him he's so cute."

"He makes me think of thestrals. A small, very fluffy thestral." Neville kept tilting his head different directions, as though trying to look at the owl in as many angles as possible. "I'm not sure why though."

"I thought the same thing." Harry said, shrugging. "But what do I name him?"

Ginny crossed her ankles behind her, thinking. "Sooty."

Neville and Harry both scoffed. Ginny scowled. "I'm not good at naming things. I named Pig, remember?"

"And Arnold." Ginny and Neville shared a grin.

"There's nothing wrong with the name Arnold." Ginny sat up.

"There was when it was a tiny, fluffy, purple thing. It just didn't match."

Ginny shrugged, as the to say, ah well. Then she frowned. "Poor Arnold."

Neville nodded, patting her on the shoulder.

"What happened to Arnold?" Harry picked up his new owl and put him on his lap, petting his head. Ginny and Neville looked at each other quickly. "Seamus...sat on him."

Neville burst into a quickly suppressed laughter. Ginny hit him on the shoulder. "It's not funny."

Shaking with the effort not to laugh, Neville shook his head, "It's...It's a little funny."

"Poor, Poor Arnold. Even in death he is mocked. It's not his fault his was born a tiny, purple, defenseless thing." Ginny kept a straight face.

Neville couldn't hold it in any more and bent double, laughing, his forehead against the newly stained wood floors.

Ginny shook her head, "Despicable. Poor thing was flattened, and here you are, laughing."

Neville sucked in a deep breath. "Flat. Fl...flat and stuck to Seamus' b..butt."

Ginny's lips quivered, fighting a grin. "I'm glad you find the death of innocent creatures so humorous, Neville Longbottom."

Sitting up straight and whipping his eyes, Neville grinned, "Oh stop, Pygmy Puffs only live two years at most, poor Arnold wasn't long for the world anyway."

Harry stroked his owl, feeling a little surprised at how well Ginny and Neville got on. Thinking of it, they did go to the Yule ball with each other. They were also stuck up at Nightmare Hogwarts together…"

Frowning, Harry coughed, "So, what to name this owl here, now that we've established that Ginny has a bad track record."

Ginny shrugged. "I've already made my suggestion. He just looks and feels kind of sooty to me, so that's all I can think of when I see him."

Neville and Harry looked at each other, ignoring Ginny's input. "You said that he reminded you of thestrals too, right?"

Harry nodded, looking down at the owl's inky black eyes.

"Then, how about Virgil, like Dante's Virgil?"

Harry looked at Neville in surprise. "Wizards know about Dante?"

"Yes, we do. Dante was written before we were all separated from muggles."

"Virgil. Virgil. Hey Virgil, I see you have a letter for me." Harry tried it out, liking it more and more as he looked at him. It just seemed to fit. Virgil gave a small hoot, leaning forward and nibbling on Harry's chin for a second. It was the most affectionate Harry had seen him sense he brought him home yesterday. "I like it and I think he does too. Virgil it is."

"Now that that's settled, let's pick out some furniture and plants. I have here some pop up catalogs from a few different places. You just tap them and it sort of projects how that furniture would look there."

Neville and Harry nodded, picking up a couple of catalogs. "I was surprised when I came in though, you know. The way you lot went on about it, I thought it was suppose to look like the shrieking shack, but it's quite pleasant."

Ginny and Harry laughed. "It use to look much worse, but Ginny, Luna and Bill have been helping me a lot. This is a long way away from how it use to look."

"Bill and Luna have been over?"

"Just a couple of days ago."

Neville shook his head, "Shame we couldn't have all met up. I want to see them, Luna in particular. I've haven't seen her in ages."

"Well, you'll see them soon enough...In all likelihood, I mean."

"True." As Harry turned to project a couch against the opposite wall, Harry saw Ginny and Neville share a secret smile from the corner of his eye. He felt a stab of annoyance.

Six hours later, Harry and Ginny cleaned up the kitchen, Neville having just left after dinner.

"I'm excited for your furniture to arrive. I have to say, it was a lot of fun, especially with someone else's money. It was like playing with a life sized doll house. Of course, a lot less pink than the dollhouses I played with."

Harry didn't reply, moving dishes back into the cabinets. Ginny slid next to him, standing close, frowning up at him. "Are you okay, you've seemed a little off since earlier?"

Harry nodded, giving her a brief smile. Ginny frowned further, sitting down at the table.

Harry sighed and in a off voice, overly casual, he said, "You and Neville are a lot closer than I realized."

Ginny shrugged, "We had a rough year at Hogwarts, it caused some bonding for those of us still there. Plus, Neville and I have always gotten along."

Harry's stomach sunk while he felt irritation itch in his chest. "Have you?"

"Yeah, Neville and I were always sort of outcasts. I came into my own a bit more in fourth year, got to know more of my classmates, but before then, I was… I mean, first year was a disaster, as you know, and I spent second year sort of recovering. It was awkward with my classmates because I spent the whole previous year not talking to them. Third year was better and by fourth I had more friends. The Yule ball was a lot of fun. Neville and I talked to a lot of people we hadn't ever talked to before and had some laughs. My feet hurt the next day from Neville's two left feet, but it was worth it."

Harry tried not to slam his almost empty cup down on the counter. Breathing through his nose, he told himself he was being irrational. "So, last year, you two must have talked a lot. Is that what that secret smile you two gave each other earlier was about, some in joke?"

He felt, more than heard, Ginny still behind him. "Oh, Neville and I hardly talked, what with all the snogging we did."

Harry spun on his heels, facing Ginny fully, the fury that erupted in his chest dying just as quickly as it came at the stern expression on Ginny's face. "I spent the whole year worried sick about you, thinking about you, being in love with you but not even knowing whether or not you hurt, or dead, or captured, or moving on. And I find it rich that you would be jealous of me and Neville when you were the one who spent the whole year, several months of which were alone, with a girl in a tent."

Harry sat down next to Ginny, moving the chair so that it faced her, their knees touching. "It wasn't a girl, it was Hermione."

Ginny grinned, "I'm sure that Hermione would love to hear that."

Harry shrugged. "You know what I mean."

"Then you'll understand that Neville and I are the same."

Harry looked at her face and felt like the biggest berk that ever lived. "I'm sorry. I'm...I don't know what came over me. Some part of me still has a hard time believing you're dating me."

Ginny scoffed, "What do you mean?"

"You're, you know, beautiful and popular and funny and smart, and I'm a jealous moody prat with a penchant for getting in trouble. If I thought for more than two seconds, I would have remember that you're you, trustworthy and all that. Not that you would have done anything wrong if you had snogged Neville last year, as we were broken up. I'm sorry, honestly."

Ginny smiled, grabbing his hand. "You're forgiven. I'm sure Neville will get a kick out of this though."

Harry groaned, "Oh, don't tell him, I feel pathetic already."

"No, I don't think he'll look down on you...It's more like, whoever thought that Harry Potter would ever be jealous of the two of us?"

"What do you mean?"

"Just, you're you and Neville and I are Neville and I."

Harry leaned forward, frowning. "That hasn't really clarified anything for me."

"I just explained though. Neville and I are outcasts, or were, and you three were always the cool kids. It's just funny how things have changed."

Harry laughed incredulously, "We were always the what?"

Ginny smiled, "The cool kids, the ones everyone always talked about. You three were always huddled together, whispering about something important or dangerous and the rest of us were just looking in, wondering what you all were going to do next."

Harry shook his head. "Ron and Hermione will have a laugh at that. Us the cool kids."

"I guess it's hard to know how people think of themselves."

Harry's grin slipped. "It's hard to know what to think of yourself sometimes, too."

Ginny tilted her head to the side, questioning.

"It's just that, I mean. I sort of had a… a realization, I suppose, before I came and saw you and said that I love you, that I'm afraid of living life meaninglessly. Like, I don't want to do things just because I don't know what else to do, but because I want to do it more than anything else."

"Live passionately." Ginny supplied, nodding her head in encouragement.

"Yeah, that. But see, the thing is is that I still am not sure what I'm passionate about."

Ginny sighed, looking thoughtful. "I suppose you'll have to learn that yourself. But, do you want my insight, perhaps?"

Harry nodded his head eagerly, leaning forward in anticipation.

"You...a common denominator in most things you do as I see it is that, well, Hermione's mentioned it before, I think she called it 'your saving people thing', is that you want to help people. You don't like to see people bullied, you can't watch while people are in danger or need help. Most people, they don't take it as their personal responsibility to jump into action the way that you do. The most passionate I've ever seen you is when you're helping people."

"What if I just have some hero complex or something?"

Ginny shrugged, moving from her chair to sit in his lap. She brushed his hair back, running her fingers through it. "First, there are probably worse complexes to have. But Harry, it's not like you want credit for it, or you are looking for anything when you help people. It's like instinct for you. So, it's not a hero complex if you are actually just a hero."

* * *

 _Dear Ron and Hermione,_

 _Say hello to my new owl Virgil._

 _When are you lot coming back? I'm starting to feel antsy. How have things progressed with your parents, Hermione?_

 _On my end, a few things have happened. First, I've told Ginny I love her. I can hear Ron gagging already, but it makes me very happy, so deal with it._

 _Second, I've made a lot of progress at Grimmauld. Ginny helped a lot and so did Bill, Neville and Luna. You both will be blown away by the time you come back._

 _Third, I've decided to pursue being an Auror. It will probably take some talking with the auror department to make everything clear, but after talking it over with McGonagall, Andy, and Ginny, I think it's the right choice. Honestly, I'm not too excited about being an auror by itself. I don't want to deal with the politics, or the paperwork, or all the rules, or the expectations, but if it's how I can best help people, then I want to do it._

 _Because, the more I think of it, the thing that makes me excited, that sounds worth while, is making sure people can live their lives without threats hanging over them, without feeling powerless. I've seen how much life has improved for everyone since Voldemort has died, and I want to continue to make things better._

 _I don't think that I'm explaining things clearly. At any rate, I'll let you guys know how that goes. Hopefully you'll be back by then?_

 _Love,_

 _Harry_

* * *

 _Hello Kingsley,_

 _I'm sorry about the awkward way I left things the last time I spoke with you. I want to continue to talk about things that we touched on there. Would it be possible to talk to you and Athenahold sometime soon?_

 _I just want to talk about the possibility of me being an auror, and not in a stupid way, like being a press liaison or something, but in the best way possible, in a way that will actually help people._

 _Please let me know if you are willing to meet and when would work. My schedule is wide open._

 _Thank you,_

 _Harry_


	10. Fear of the Thing Itself

**Fear of the Thing Itself**

Andy was shaking him violently, her hands on his shoulders. His glasses slid down his nose.

"You're going to be just fine, Harry, do you hear me? It's going to go swimmingly, you'll see."

"Andy, why…"

"No! I don't want to hear it! I want you to stay positive. Stay. Positive." She punctuated her words with particularly hard shakes. Andy's face was pale, her eyes wide in a sort of hysteria. Harry felt vaguely frightened.

Harry grabbed her by the shoulders too, shaking her back. "Andy, why are you shaking me?"

Andy stared at him, her mouth falling open slightly. "I-I don't know. I'm just so nervous for you. I'm nervous enough for the both of us, I think, so I don't want you to be nervous."

Harry smiled, patting her shoulders before dropping his hands. "Of course I'm going to be nervous, but honestly, I do think seeing you so worried has made me feel better. Or more sane at least."

Andy slapped his shoulder, "Hey, I just want it to go well, is all."

Harry bit his lip, looking down at his robes uncertainly. "And you're sure, very sure, that these robes are right for an interview?"

They were a dark green, almost a black, a nice material, the cut more sophisticated than the Hogwarts' robes, but not quite as nice as the robes he wore to the different funerals and award ceremonies. Andy nodded and reached forward, adjusting the collar, looking a little teary.

"If you think I'm overreacting now, you should have seen me before Dora's interview. She actually had to put a Petrificus Totalus on me so that I would stop attacking her hair with a wet brush."

Taking a deep breath, Harry gave Andy a nervous smile. "Thank you for not doing that. I promise it wouldn't make a difference with this mess anyway."

The clock chimed and Harry bent forward, taking Teddy's tiny waving fist in his hand for a second before letting go. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck, Harry. By the time you get back I'll have Teddy's play room all set up."

Harry took a pinch of floo powder and called for the Minister's office. The fire was a lighter green, almost a yellow. A smooth, calm voice asked for a password and his name, Harry supplying both before the fire turned green.

Harry turned into the fire, watching Andy's anxious face and Teddy's smiling one as he spun away.

"Ah, Harry! Very prompt, good, good." Kingsley was staring at him, his smile as easygoing as ever. Harry felt himself relax a little despite himself.

"Kingsley, I-I mean Minister Shacklebolt, how are you?"

"Very well, Harry. I'm excited to get this interview going. We're going to go the conference room just to the other side of the reception desk, if you'll follow me?"

They walked through the door, around the reception desk, David giving him an excited little wave as they walked past, knocking over his glass of water as he did so. Harry nodded back, feeling stiff.

They entered a new room dominated by large polished mahogany table and decorated much the same as the rest of the office. Across from the door sat Athenahold, Yamamoto and St. James, looking neater than the last time he had seen them, though still intimidating, all frowns and business like posture. They leaned towards each other, whispering, at his entrance.

Kingsley gestured to the seat in front of Harry and then joined the others on the other side of the table.

"Please state your name, age, and N.E.W.T. qualifications for the record, please." Athenahold nodded towards the quill standing on its tip, at the ready.

"Uh, Um, Harry Potter, seventeen, though I'll be turning eighteen in a few days time, in three days, and uh, I-I don't have any N.E.W.T qualifications."

Harry licked his lips and coughed. Exasperated with how nervous he felt, Harry made his shoulders relax. He took a deep breath and folded his hands neatly in front of him. This was just talking, not battling dark wizards.

"You don't have any N.E.W.T qualifications because you dropped out of Hogwarts after your sixth year, correct? I know it seems obvious, but please state for the record why you think that you are qualified for auror training without the required qualifications."

Harry took another deep breath, collecting his thoughts, calmer now, before answering. "Yes, I did drop out of Hogwarts because of unavoidable circumstances. But my magical education didn't stop when I dropped out. It took on a very practical element instead, while being on the run from Voldemort and his followers, a practical element that I think makes me more qualified than proving I know a lot of theory on a punch of test does."

All four of them stared at him in silence, their expression very even, almost blank. There was a long pause as they waited for the quill to catch up, it's scratching falling into silence after a minute.

"Could you explain what you consider to be the useful practical elements you learned and why you think they would be good for the aurors?"

Harry's mind flashed through endless hours in the forest, Hermione teaching him the protection spells, having to brew healing potions in a panic, crouched on the floor of the tent. "I know how to remain undetectable, know the disillusionment charm and various repelling, invisibility, and warding spells that can protect an area. I know how to brew a polyjuice potion as well. I know how to brew basic healing potions in a rush. I know how to repel dementors, I know how to fight in battle, under pressure, and though I didn't do my N.E.W.T.s I did receive an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts, having had to learn a lot of spell very quickly during my time in the Triwizard Tournament."

Harry stopped, his thoughts swirling into different directions, to all the spells he has used in different situations, the feeling of the sword being pushed through the top of the Basilisk's mouth, Draco Malfoy laying sprawled on the floor, blood pouring quickly, too quickly across the watery floor. The feeling of the Imperius Curse, the pure rage of casting the Cruciatus. Harry frowned and leaned forward, looking them all in the eye in turn. "But more than that, more than listing a bunch of spells at you, which can be learned later if I don't already know them anyway, is that I already know it. I know it too well, something that I'm sure all new aurors have to learn eventually. I know evil. I've seen it inside and out. I'm not surprised by the cruelty in the world. I know how evil thinks, been in its head for so many years. I may not know how to brew a, a Silent Steps potion, or know how to cast a very complicated shield, but I can learn how to do those. No, what I learned, that auror training or N.E.W.T.s can't teach you, only experience can, is how to fight evil. I know how to fight evil and that, that makes me qualified in ways that even the brightest, fresh new auror student could never be."

All four of them looked more pale, grave in the bright light of the conference room. The quill scratched on and on but no one looked away from the other, the atmosphere tense.

Yamamoto asked the next question as the quill slowed to a stop. "No one can deny your experience, but I think a more important question is, then, why an auror? If you already know evil, you know that this job is not easy, not something that most who know better are willing to walk into. So, why do you want to be an auror, Mr. Potter?"

"I want to help people." Harry opened his mouth to continue, but his brain ground to a halt. He wasn't sure how to describe his motivation, so new, to these people who didn't know him.

St. James frowned and shook his head. "That's good, but then why not a healer, or a teacher, why an auror specifically?"

Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His palms started to sweat, his heart racing. "I-I…"

The four of them stared, the quill was still, waiting at attention. Athenahold's eyebrow slowly started to rise.

"I want to help people specifically by...by putting the bad guys away." Harry winced, realizing how lame that sounded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows against the table, trying to find the right words to explain himself with. "I...teaching and healing are great. I really respect those positions, but they are very...passive?" He glanced up at their stoic faces quickly before looking down. "I need to be in the thick of it, I think. Teaching, that seems to be before things happen, it informs people, helps them do whatever they are going to do. Healing, that happens after, when the dust settles and things need to be fixed. But protecting people, fighting people, it's in those moments when decisions need to be made, when action needs to be taken, that's where I feel...Not comfortable, obviously, but it seems to be where I find myself. I trust myself in those moments, I have to. So, when I think of how to best help people, being an Auror matches the closest."

The quill continued to scratch, but Athenahold didn't wait for it to catch up. "There are things we can do to help with your incredible fame, such as disguises while on patrol and so on, but I think it's important to know how you will handle it."

"How I'll handle it?"

"Yes, how will you handle all of the expectations, the fact that your teammates will be strange around you, at least at first, that your trainers might seem to be going easier or harder on you?"

Harry looked up at them again, more confident of his answer this time. "I'll just be myself. Really, fame isn't all that different than making a first impression, just all at once. I'll never not be famous, and that really irritates me. But my teammates, my trainers, they all, even if I wasn't famous, would treat me how they will anyway, right? I mean, say I didn't get along with my teammates, or say one trainer just liked me more than another does? It's all the same, even if you're not famous, isn't it? I'll just deal with it." Harry smiled a little, McGonagall's words coming out of his mouth with ease, "And I won't let fame or expectations stop me from being who I am."

Yamamoto sat back in his chair with a sigh. "It will be easier said than done."

Harry shrugged, "Everything is."

"That will complete the first round of interviews, Mr. Potter." The quill fell with a small clink against the table.

Kingsley spoke for the first time since entering the room. "We will have a talk in here for a few minutes, Harry, and then will let you know what we think and what the next steps are. If you will wait just a little while in the waiting room, we will call you in shortly."

Harry stood awkwardly and exited. David was not at his desk, making Harry give a relieved sigh as he sat on the stiff, uncomfortable couch.

Before Harry could reach for the newspaper, John St. James entered the room, closing the door softly behind him. He sat with a huff next to Harry. Looking at him more closely, with his posture relaxed, Harry realized that St. James was actually quite young, maybe only ten years older than him.

"That was the strangest, most intense interview I've ever been part of." St. James gave him a small grin, considering him. "I'm out here because you are obviously in, but they still need to sort out some details that I don't necessarily help out with."

"I'm in?" Harry's voice was strangely high.

St. James nodded easily. "Yeah, unless you fail a physical or something, but that seems unlikely."

Harry sat forward smiling, but St. James frowned, his eyes glancing to Harry's face every few seconds. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something. "You...You seem like a nice fellow, Harry. Kind of...shy, or, I don't know, exactly. But when I met you that first time, I was surprised. I think I expected a big ego and, I don't know exactly, I guess a large presence? But you give off an unassuming vibe, and I like that, but I was...It was just hard to put you and the Chosen One, the Defeater of Voldemort, into the same category in my brain. But, in there, when you were talking about evil, you really did sound like the senior aurors. You, you were just...really intense and in that moment I felt it, who you are, what you did. Honestly, all of us felt like ponces even making you go through these steps, the interview and everything, but now I'm glad we did it. I feel like I know you better now or at least, see you more clearly."

Harry looked at St. James' open face, saw the admiration there, not wild eyed or fanatical, but grounded, and felt, maybe for the first time since defeating Voldemort, proud of himself for it.

* * *

Harry spun out of the fire into his living room and blinked. Ginny, Mrs. Weasley, Andy and Teddy were all sitting on the newly purchased sofas, talking, Teddy gurgling in Ginny's lap. They immediately stood when he stepped out of the fireplace. Ginny, Teddy still in her arms, stepped forward quickly. "How did it go?"

Harry beamed around at them all, "I start in September, that's when the next training round begins."

Ginny smiled hugely, stepping forward to hug Harry with one arm, Teddy giggling between them. Mrs. Weasley gasped, clasping her hands together and moved forward, patting him on the arm, saying, "Oh, lovely, how lovely, I'm very pleased. I'll have to tell Arthur and all the children. I do hope you'll be safe though dear. Oh who am I kidding, you were never careful anyway..."

Andy smiled a strange, soft smile behind the Weasley women, her expression both pleased and sad. "I'm very happy for you, Harry. I...I hope you stay safe, too."

"Thanks everybody, I'll try not to do anything crazier than I usually do."

All three women scoffed. Harry grinned. "Now, with that all out of the way, I want to see what you did upstairs."

"I'll show you, Teddy needs to put down for his nap anyway." Ginny gave Harry a significant look, glancing back at the two women behind her.

Harry nodded, following Ginny up the stairs, Andy and Molly looking towards different corners of the room as they rounded the corner into the now sunny and open play room.

"Wow, this looks great!" Harry walked around the room as Ginny put Teddy down, tapping her wand against the mobile of stuffed dragons above it. There were many brightly colored toys in baskets, a rocking chair, a nice soft carpet, a small bookshelf filled with books big and small, their spines bright colors. Beneath the window as a very comfortable looking window seat which Harry sat on with a happy sigh.

"Are you sure it's a good idea to leave them downstairs alone? Not that I think that either of them will start a fight or something, but still…"

Ginny shook her head, sitting next to Harry, leaning lightly against the glass. "It's awkward, but they are both going to be involved in our lives from here on out, so they will need to work out how to talk to each other without that elephant in the room."

Harry smiled down at her, her face against the soft warm light of the evening sun, her hair darker in the shadows. Unable to stop himself, he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. Moving slowly, their kisses deepened further, their hands roaming. Harry moved his hands up her back, under her shirt, under the back of her bra. Ginny, laughing, pulled away. "Harry, Teddy is sleeping feet away and there are two very powerful, very maternal witches downstairs."

Sighing, Harry rested his forehead against hers. He felt happy, so complete in a way that he hadn't in such a long time, if ever. He couldn't look away from her. If a dementor stood next to him right now, he doubted it would be able to do a thing, patronus or no. "I love you."

Ginny, smiling, kissed the corner of his mouth. "I love you too. Now stop looking at me like that or we are both going to get into trouble."

Harry kissed her cheek, then her ear, moving down to her neck, "You know me, I like trouble."

Ginny sighed, her hands on his shoulders. Eventually she moved him away, just slightly, "Harry…"

Grinning, he pulled away from her, "Fine, fine…"

"It's awfully, suspiciously, quiet up there, you two." Mrs. Weasley yelled, her voice amused. "Come down now, I've made dinner."

"Yeah, quit snogging and come down, it looks delicious." Andy's voice followed, both women laughing as they moved away from the stairs, apparently getting along fine.

Taking Ginny's hand he went downstairs, so happy, so content, he wondered if he was dreaming.

* * *

His dreams turned out to be less sunny than his day.

Cedric was resting against the wall of the castle, next to the charms classroom, decomposing. When he spoke, his skin rippled sickeningly, his eyes so sunken into his head they were almost gone.

"You think that you're going to grow old with her don't you? You picture that play room being used again and again but with your own red haired children don't you? Will, don't count on it. I curse you, Harry Potter. Kill the spare, Kill the spare. Why should you get to be happy?"

Harry backed down the hallway, feeling nauseous, scared, and so sorry he wasn't sure if it was vomit or a sob building in his throat. He rounded the corner, out of Cedric's painful gaze, and was suddenly in the great hall. Lavender and Colin were sitting the middle, playing patty cake, the sounds of their hands slapping together echoing in the otherwise empty hall. Colin was a ghost, Lavender an inferi, her gaze empty, her chest and face still oozing blood from Greyback's wounds. Colin looked over at him, his expression cold, so odd looking on Colin's warm face. "Oh, did you like our game? Do you imagine Teddy and your future kids playing it? Lavender and I wanted to play it, see, because we're still kids. We're dead kids, isn't it sad? And why did we die? Because you didn't move fast enough. You could have gone out to the woods sooner, could have figured everything out sooner, but no, instead you waited and waited, until we had to fight, until we died." He started crying, ghostly tears rolling down his cheeks, disappearing into his silver clothing. "My poor brother, he admired you almost as much as I did."

Suddenly Sirius was next to him, looking as he use to in old photos, full of life, a second away from barking his laugh loudly into the air. Smiling he looked down at Harry, "You thought if you took down my stuff, redecorated my house, you would be able to move on? Harry, Harry, Harry, see, you can paint as many rooms as you want, kiss her as many times as she'll let you but…" Sirius stepped back, standing next to Lavender and Colin, the great hall shaking violently, suddenly falling back into chaos, bodies everywhere, fire, dust, looking exactly as it had during the final battle. "We will always be here."

Harry woke up gasping and sweating. He rolled out of bed and out into the hallway, staggering. His stomach rolled and rolled. He stood on the landing shaking, deciding whether he needed to go to the bathroom to throw up or go down to the kitchen for some tea. Eventually his stomach stopped rolling so much, so, still shaking, he made his way to the kitchen.

He sat in the hard wooden seat and shivered as his sweat dried, the tea warm in his hands. He knew what to do calm down from nightmares, the process of it habit now, almost boring, like doing dishes or laundry. But this one would require some more thinking on his part.

Did he deserve to be happy?

The answer, a firm no, echoed throughout his brain, landing softly in his heart. No, he didn't.

Harry put his head against the table, blinking back tears. So, what was he suppose to do? Live miserably, dump Ginny, destroy the house, never see his loved ones again?

Another no, just as firm, moved from his heart into his brain, and wedged itself there.

Harry sighed. So, he couldn't just move on, forget the horror his stupidity and inaction had caused, but he couldn't not live, not make the people in his life happy.

What could he do?

Aurors. The answer came to him from a dark, still sleepy corner of his mind. You've joined the aurors. You might not be able to save those already dead, but if you save enough people…

Harry sat straight, taking a longer, but still shaky sip of tea. He'll just have to do better in the future. Maybe he could find redemption in being an auror. He would never lose the responsibility of those deaths, but maybe, one day, the ghosts in his head would forgive him if he saved as many people as he could. He would deserve happiness then, perhaps. In the meantime, he would just be grateful for it, try to remember that his life was a fluke and be grateful for it.

 **A/N Thanks again for all the lovely reviews, favorites, and follows. Flutter360 pointed out to me that I was recommended on Read-A-Hinny, also known as Better than Firewhiskey, which I found really nice. I look at that tumblr all the time when I'm craving a Hinny, so I was really flattered.**


	11. I Solemnly Swear

**I Solemnly Swear**

Everyone was there, in the daylight, in the garden.

He shouldn't have been surprised. Ginny and Neville's secret smile, Mrs. Weasley being Mrs. Weasley, they had been planning it for awhile.

Everyone was there for his birthday. Kingsley talking with Mr. Weasley, Andy and Mrs. Weasley talking admittedly over Teddy. Lee Jordan and Angelina standing on either side of George, buffering him from others, their smiles set, but not nearly as set as George's whose grin was familiar but so far from his eyes his face seemed split in two.

Dean and Seamus were there, smiling and flirting lightly with the Patil twins, Padma engaged, trying, but Parvati was gone, her smile shifting between Lee's and George's level of forced.

Neville was standing by the sandwiches, munching while Luna talked and Ginny braided her hair.

There were others, coming in and out of the house, flashes of red hair, more Weasleys. He thought he heard Hagrid's booming laugh from the back garden, thought he saw McGonagall's pointed hat in the window.

With everyone one there, it was obvious, more painfully obvious, who wasn't.

"We will always be here," echoed through Harry's mind, as cold and empty as the ghosts who said it in his sleep. He wasn't sure he wanted to do this.

"Harry! Oh Harry, dear, you're early!" Mrs. Weasley yelled out in surprise, making everyone look first at her and then to him. Everyone stood up at once, faces appeared at the windows, then moved to the front garden, filling in the space as Harry stood at the gate. Hagrid stood at the rear of the crowd, having come from the back of the house, blocking the view of whomever he had been speaking with, their eyes peering in between the crack of Hagrid's stomach and elbow.

They all started singing at once in a such a cacophony of noise Harry had to fight to not put his hands over his ears. They had apparently not decided on a song before starting, as some were singing Happy Birthday, others were singing For He's a Jolly Good Fellow, while more were singing songs he wasn't sure of, and all of these at different paces and volumes.

Harry stood still, his face frozen in embarrassment. George and Lee finished last, drawing out the words, "and you smell like one too," with operatic vibrato.

"Uh...thank you…" Harry grinned, feeling his face burning. He made eye contact with George and for just a second his eyes matched his smile.

* * *

He felt like Dudley, a small mountain of presents for him piled on a swaying table. He kept glancing at them, then away, feeling strangely embarrassed by them.

George and Angelina were talking with Kingsley a few feet away, their backs towards him. "I can't believe you made him interview and pass a physical. Kingsley, you were there. You saw him just the same as the rest of us. What did he have to do in his physical? Fight off a hundred dementors? Battle with dozens of dark wizards? Kill a giant bloody snake? Maybe defeat the worst dark wizard ever, saving the world? Oh, wait…"

Kingsley chuckled, shaking his head, "Harry will have enough trouble from teammates for getting into the auror program without any N.E.W.T.s , let alone getting in without an interview. And, in case you're curious, each auror has to run two miles and hit spells against various wards to see if their spells are strong enough for field work. Harry passed both of those very well, especially the wards test. For such a skinny kid, his spells seem to pack quite a wallop."

Lee returned with a plate towering with food, swaying as he walking carefully over to their group. "Well, we all know that size has nothing to do with power. Look at Flitwick, or hell, even Ginny. Remember when Fred tried to…to…" Lee stuttered to a stop, a cupcake falling off the top of the tower of food, icing face down in the grass. Angelina looked down while George paled, his lips stiffening.

Kingsley coughed, "Yes...yes, well, obviously size doesn't matter for spell strength, and to be honest, though still skinny, Harry is a lot taller than he use to be, by the end of auror training he should…"

Harry pushed away from the table of presents and left, seeing Lee's sorry face glancing at Angelina and George every few seconds as Kingsley babbled on about him, as he walked his way through the crowd, smiling at people and thanking them for coming. He found Ginny and McGonagall talking next to a table of different punches, some of them smoking, one emitting bright green sparks. They didn't notice him at the other end of the table, filling his glass with the smoking one, which turned out to have a bit of a spicy, alcoholic tint to it.

"I'm very happy with your class choices for the upcoming year, Ms. Weasley. I hope that being quidditch captain and head girl won't be too much work for you."

Ginny's face broke out in a wide smile. For a second she looked like she was going to hug McGonagall and then thought better of it. "Really, both? I'm honored, but...I wasn't a prefect and Hermione is going to come back to Hogwarts and if anybody deserves to be head girl…"

"Hermione will be coming back as an older student, which will be awkward for her, I'm sure, especially after everything she has experienced. So I'm making her my assistant. That way she will have more responsibility and freedom, which will make her more comfortable." McGonagall took deep drink from her slightly smoking cup and leaned towards Ginny a little conspiratorially. "That's what I'm officially saying anyway. Really, there is just a lot work and I could really use her help."

Ginny grinned and nodded. "Hermione as your assistant will be brilliant, I'm sure. But still, why me, I wasn't a prefect…"

"During that… that horrible year, I saw that you and Neville Longbottom really lead everybody, keeping everyone together. The returning students, they'll all respect you and that will help immensely. After what everybody went through… it will help to have someone they trust so much…" Ginny nodded solemnly, McGonagall and her maintaining eye contact, looking like they were making a silent oath.

Harry drank the rest of the punch in one gulp and filled up another glass, moving away from the two women's moment towards the food table, his head feeling a little lighter.

Harry piled his plate with his favourite foods and leaned against the house, watching the crowd swirl this way and that, coming apart and together, laughing, smiling, their faces dropping when no one was looking. Luna stood against the house further down from him, humming under her breath and looking tired, dark marks under her eyes. To his surprise, Padma Patil came up to her, looking tired herself.

"Looney…" Padma shook her head, her face in a grimace, "that's...that's not what I meant to say. I meant, I mean to say, the opposite. Luna, Luna I'm sorry that we didn't look after you better, you know, in Ravenclaw."

Luna looked back at Padma with raised eyebrows. "You weren't one of the girls who was mean to me, though."

Padma frowned, "No, but I didn't stop them either. I just watched, or, more, I just ignored them and, and you. I just...it wasn't right, and you didn't deserve that. I'm sorry, Luna."

Luna continued to look at her with raised eyebrows for a minute before blinking slowly and looking down into her drink. "I have been very angry with my father lately. He betrayed my friends and I...I'm finding that hard to forgive. They have forgiven him, I understand why he did what he did, and he has shown he is sorry in so many ways, but it wasn't until you apologized just now that it has made sense to me…"

Luna stood straight and looked into Padma's weary eyes, her face as present as he has ever seen her. "My nargle charms must be wearing off, I haven't been thinking clearly. For a long time I thought I was angry at people for calling me Looney and for stealing my things, but I thought I had moved past it. It wasn't until your apology that I realized I hadn't, not really. The thing that hurt the most wasn't those girls, narrow minded people are generally cruel, but all who turned away from me. I hadn't realized that was what hurt me. I forgive you, Padma. I'll forgive Daddy, too, now that I know I get confused about what I'm really angry about, that it wasn't his betrayal that still hurts, but that he is human. He...he isn't any different from other people…" As Luna spoke she looked down at her glass again, her shoulders slumped.

Padma looked down at the top of Luna's head and reached up, patting her hair with a strange tension in her posture, her face sad. "I think that was the hardest part about these last few years, realizing that our parents are people, that adults are just as confused and frightened as us...It makes you feel a little lost. And really thankful for Harry."

Luna looked up again into Padma's face. "Yes, I think we are all very thankful for Harry, though he doesn't understand it, silly boy."

It was Harry's turn to look down into his drink, the smoke swirling into his face. The ghosts' words echoing once again, his mind flashing through the different conversations he had heard.

Everyone was awfully sad and tense for a party.

Harry slammed back the rest of his drink, the world going a little tilted for a second, everything having a soft glow. He loved everybody here. They had all done so much for him, he needed to help…

Harry walked to the middle of the crowd, pulling a chair behind him, which he stood up on, swaying slightly. "Excuse me. Ex...excuse me."

The talking quieted, someone turned off the WWN, everyone turned to look at him. Strangely Charlie's surprised and smirking face stood out to Harry amongst the crowd.

"First, I want to thank everyone for coming and I want to especially thank Mrs. and Mr. Weasley for giving me such a great surprise birthday." Everyone clapped, their faces grinning up at him. Part of him just wanted to leave it there, but the punch swirled in his stomach, making everything a little more foggy. He regained his courage.

"I'm happy to see everybody here, I really am, but looking around at everyone trying to have fun, I can't let people continue to force themselves. You know...You know, a lot of people died and we can walk around this party smiling and smiling, but they're still dead." The crowd quieted further, a terrible stillness invading the space as everyone inhaled and held their breath.

Harry's thoughts scattered, what was so clear a second ago entering the fog in his mind as well. "I'm, I'm not trying to make everyone sad, but you know, everybody is already sad, so…What I'm trying to say is that I know I'm tired of talking about it in a way, too…"

He looked out into the crowd, Charlie's face stone, Ginny looking at him in concern, Andy with her face pressed against Teddy, swaying, Luna smiling at him as though he were saying something that made sense.

Harry's gaze drifted towards George, who was frowning up at him, still standing with Angelina and Lee over by the gifts, but he looked more present than he had the rest of the evening, than he had in a long time. Harry continued to look at him, his thoughts refocusing. "We had those months where it just never seemed to stop, funeral after ceremony after funeral. Now it feels like it's time to start trying to move on, to think about other things than those we lost and what we went through in the war, to try to be happy or something like it. But now, this, having a birthday party, smiling at each other meaninglessly, it isn't any better. We all need to move on, we can start to feel better, we can fall in love and start new jobs and go back to school, but we don't have to pretend the past never happened, we don't have to forget. Basically what I'm trying to say is that we don't have to be so extreme about it. We don't have to either only talk about the war or not at all…We don't have to treat it like a tab...a tab...taboo. Yes, that's the word. The war doesn't, it can't, be a taboo topic thing if we are ever going to truly move on."

Harry pulled out his wand and summoned over another glass of the smoking punch, half of which sloshed out of the cup onto his shirt as he caught it. "So I'd like to make a toast. To you all who came, to all those who couldn't be here, they will always be with us, into our bright new futures, they will always be here. To them."

"To them," the crowd muttered, raising their glasses.

"And to us, hopefully we can be happy, we can grow to remember them, to have them in our lives while still being happy. We can try. To trying."

"To trying." The crowd said louder, raised their drinks higher. Harry tossed back the remaining punch in his cup and grimaced, the fog in his brain closing in completely.

* * *

Harry woke up to a sharp pain in his arm.

"Ron, for the love of… don't hit him!"

"I don't know, Hermione, from what my mum said about yesterday, it sounds like he could use a little hitting."

"Ginny said he just said what needed to be said."

"Yeah, then he wandered around, poking people and telling them to lighten up. He knocked McGonagall's hat off and then puked in my mum's carrot patch."

There was a soft giggling sound, "Did he really? Ginny didn't tell me that. But still, hitting him, no, looking at his face waking up right now, the hangover will be punishment enough."

Harry rolled over, pressing his pillow over his head, groaning. These voices sounded very familiar but he really need them to stop.

"Oi, you haven't seen your two best friends in a month and this is how you greet us?"

"Go way." Harry groaned again, speaking making him realize how dry his mouth is and also increased the pressure in his stomach. He swallowed thickly.

Harry felt another sharp pain, this time in his leg, and hissed, sitting up.

A blurry red figure towered over him while a blurry bushy brown figure sat next to him in the bed. "Ron? Hermione?"

The blurry brown figure reached forward, becoming clearer as she placed his glasses on his nose. Ron's face swam into focus as well, smirking.

"You've looked worse mate, but just barely. Maybe after that time you died and came back and fought You-Know...Voldemort. But I don't know, even then you had more colour than you do now."

"I think I'm…" Harry gagged. Hermione conjured up a bucket which Harry used. It vanished the sick just as it landed.

"Gross. I think there are hangover potions that would help you a lot, but I don't have any. My mum doesn't keep them, says that if you got yourself that sick, you deserve to deal with it."

Harry rested his head on the lip of the bucket and looked at his friends blearly. "When did you two get back? How are things with your parents, Hermione?"

Hermione conjured a glass of water and frowned, looking thoughtful. "We got in late last night. We were trying to get back in time for your birthday party, but there were problems with the portkey, so we missed it, sorry, Happy Birthday, Harry."

"Yeah, Happy Birthday, we're sorry we missed it. Sounds like you put on quite a show." Ron and Hermione glanced at each other, suppressing smiles.

Harry drank his water slowly, trying to remember what happened. "I did?"

"What do you remember?"

"I was sort of wandering around, listening to people's conversations, which was kind of depressing, really. I had some really tasty punch and…" Harry's head snapped up, horrified. "I made a speech, didn't I? I stood up on chair and...and..."

"Told everyone that they shouldn't force themselves to be happy, that we all need to learn how to be happy without pretending to forget the past. Which is very true and good advice."

"Yeah, except he didn't say it like that. Mate, it sounds like you got up on a chair, yelled at everybody, slurred a bunch, made some toasts, then wandered around being a fool."

Hermione poked Ron in the arm. "No one blames you for being drunk at your own birthday party Harry, and everyone understands what you were trying to do. As far as drunken speeches go, it sounds like worst things have happened."

"Though don't be surprised if Bill and Charlie's nickname for you is Taboo from now on."

Harry held the bucket closer to him, as though hugging a stuffed animal, and blinked slowly up at Ron and Hermione, their tan faces in teasing smiles. "You two are my best friends, we've been through some truly mad things with each other, right? You all have done a lot for me, impossible things, right?"

Ron and Hermione's smiles slipped down into more serious faces, looking a little concerned.

"Will you guys do something else for me, now? I'll consider it a birthday present."

"What is it Harry?" Hermione leaned forward, curious and a little weary.

Harry looked up at his friends, his face solemn. "Will you please kill me?"

Ron let out a long sigh. "Merlin, Harry, I thought that you were going to ask us to break into Gringotts again or something."

"If you two don't kill me now, I'll just die of embarrassment later. My two dear, dear friends, please have mercy on me and just do it now."

Hermione reached forward and flicked Harry on the head. "No, we will not kill you. Now come downstairs, I'll make us some breakfast."

Ron and Harry exchanged quick glances. Harry groaned, standing up. "No thanks Hermione, that might actually kill me. I'll make us some breakfast. Besides, you two still have to tell me how everything went."

All three headed towards the door, "What do mean, that will actually kill you? My cooking isn't that bad, is it?"

Ron and Harry exchanged another glance.

* * *

"And so, after at least four more hours of yelling, my mum broke down into tears and we both hugged and cried for awhile. I wouldn't say things are all fixed now, but at least now I know I can over at Christmas."

Harry grinned at Hermione, pushing eggs from his pan onto her plate next to her toast. "I'm really happy to hear that. What were you doing during all this yelling and crying, Ron?"

Ron swallowed his mouthful of eggs. "Me and Charles, that's her dad, were upstairs playing chess. Her dad forgave Hermione a lot quicker than her mum. He's really a great guy, Charles. Has a good sense of humor. Her mum is nice too, at least when all the yelling and crying was done."

Hermione beamed over at Ron, who looked back her, his expression affectionate. Harry felt, for the first time, that he was looking at his friends as they would be, as adults.

"I'm glad you two are back. It's been a weird month."

"Yeah, sounds like it was pretty eventful, you and Ginny are all in love, you're all set up for the aurors…"

"Are you excited to start training?"

Harry looked at his friends, biting into his toast and chewing thoughtfully. "No, honestly, I'm kind of dreading it."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Why?"

Harry shrugged. "It's easy, here with you all, with Ginny, and Andy and you know, just everybody, my family, to be myself, to forget the world and everything. But I know, I just know, that joining the aurors...it's going to be a challenge. Ginny suggested that I should give an interview, you know, to make people understand that I don't want to be mobbed, that I just want to be treated normally. I jumped down her throat like a giant prat at the time, but I dunno, I have to do something. Everytime I go out I have to wear a cloak with the hood up, which is both uncomfortably hot and makes me look like a Death Eater, so…"

Hermione nodded, frowning. "Yeah, I think it will be hard, everybody is going to treat you differently…"

"People will get over it, though, don't worry. I think if you hide in here forever, people will always wonder about you. But once you show up at the ministry everyday, send memos and avoid paperwork like everybody else, people will realise how boring you are and get over it."

Harry grinned over at Ron, who grinned back. "Thanks."

"Anytime. Soon people will realise that when you aren't defeating dark lords and robbing banks or whatever, you're just a regular bloke, getting drunk and throwing up in carrot patches."

Harry closed his eyes, washed anew with shame. "I had forgotten about that for a minute, thanks. Can we not mention that for awhile? Forever, preferably?"

"I wouldn't count on it," Ron and Hermione said at the same time, beaming at each other across the table again, high fiving. Harry was no longer sure if he liked couple Ron and Hermione.

They all clean up the kitchen and then flopped down on the sofa in the living room, Hermione looking around, nodding. "You know, you all did a really nice job in here. When Ron and I first flooed in we thought we were at the wrong house. I'm excited to see what you do with it."

Harry frowned at Hermione. "What do you mean? We finished remodeling?"

"Oh, no, the house looks lovely, it just still feels really new. I'm excited for it to feel more lived in. You know, where you throw your coat in the corner, hang family photos, leave piles of laundry on a chair for too long. More homey, I mean."

Harry looked from Hermione, leaning against the overstuffed gray throw pillow Ginny had picked out, to the blank walls, and tried to imagine it as a home, someplace he went to when he was tired. He felt his heart speed up with excitement. Maybe he would be able to make it truly a home, a home he could keep. Something more permanent then Hogwarts, something all his own. Safe.

"We should take a picture, the three of us. Don't you think?"

Ron and Hermione nodded, smiling, understanding.

Ron stood, moving towards the fireplace. "I'll be right back, I know my dad has a camera in the shed."


	12. What They Grow to Be

**What They Grow to Be**

Harry stood outside the training room, repeatedly reaching for the handle and then dropping his hand. He wiped his sweaty hand against his black auror trainee robes and tried again, his hand shaking before falling to his side again.

He had spent the last month lazy and happy, playing with Teddy, being teased by Andy, overfed by Molly, kissing Ginny, feeling more and more sad that she was going back to Hogwarts, visiting Ron and George at the joke shop, reviewing old spells with Hermione, reading the auror training manual when he woke up from nightmares, stroking Virgil's soft feathers.

But he could no longer hide in safe places.

Harry turned the knob and walked into a blue and white padded room, the floors, the walls, even the ceiling were covered in worn out mats. There was a group sitting in a loose semicircle on the floor, five wizards and three witches, all in the same training robes. A bored looking auror was leaning against the wall, his wide shoulders straight, his round face rough looking, as though he had recently spent a long time in the elements, his red robes standing out.

"Ah, and the celebrity has decided to grace us with his presence. We can start now."

Harry's heart sank a little, strongly reminded of his first day in potions. He was ten minutes early.

He sat next to a witch with her hair in a dark long plait down her back. She glanced at him once, then twice, her eyes moving to the instructor with a frown.

"No, no, let's all take a little time and get the staring out of the way. Everyone turn to look at Mr. Potter until I tell you to stop." Everyone, including the instructor, turned to look at him, all of them frowning. Harry sat very still, looking back and then away and then back again, his face becoming more and more red. The class continued to stare for one minute, then two, the other trainees becoming uncomfortable, squirming, glancing instead at the instructor over and over, wanting it to be done.

After five minutes the instructor grinned. "Alright. Good. Now you all are looking at me more than him and we can start. My name is Anthony Aonghus. You will call me Sir or Auror Aonghus. I will call you trainees. You will listen to my directions and answer my questions quickly or you will leave. You will do well or leave. You will work hard or leave. You do not decide when you will leave, I do. Pretty simple, right?"

There was a long silence, everyone sitting very straight. Auror Aonghus's face changed from disinterested to furious in a second. "I asked a question trainees."

Everyone jumped at the sudden volume of his voice. "Y-Yes, sir." "Yes, Auror Aonghus." They all answered differently, stammering.

The auror sighed wearily. "I was hoping, since all of you, except for special snowflake Potter, are a few years older than the usual recruits, that this would be less stupid than usual. If I ask a question, you all will answer sir, yes, sir or sir, no, sir. If I ask a question that requires a longer answer, I will call on you and you will start and finished the sentence with sir. If one of you raises your hands I will answer it by hitting it with a stinging hex, I swear, this isn't Hogwarts."

Harry frowned, reminded of Umbridge teaching the class to answer together. Harry met the instructor's dark, mean looking eyes and felt a wave of dislike.

"Trainee Potter, what spell should you use if you want to hear what is being said in the room next to you?"

"I don't know, sir."

The instructor rolled his eyes. "I know a few seconds ago is head to remember, but start and finish the answer with sir, trainee. What shield should you use if you want to protect yourself from level three fire curses?"

"Sir, I don't know, sir."

The instructor and Harry held eye contact for a long moment, Aonghus's smirk widening.

"Trainee Ailna, answer the question."

"Sir, Protego Solidum, sir." The girl with the long plait answered easily.

"Correct. Trainee Barran, why does it have to be that shield?"

"Sir, because the shield is more solid and defends better against physical attack spells, sir." A weedy looking man answered and glanced over at Harry, suppressing a grin.

"Correct. Trainee Taylor, what is a problem with using this shield?"

A lanky black man paused, hesitating, before answering. "Sir, it is opaque and therefore it will be hard to know when or how the next attack is coming, sir?"

"Are you asking trainee?"

Taylor shook his head. Aonghus raised his eyebrow. "Uh, Sir, no, that is my answer, sir."

"That is correct. Smith, can you demonstrate it?"

A small woman, baby faced, her light blonde hair in a short bob answered and stood. "Sir, yes, sir."

She jabbed her wand upward the brought it down with a diagonal slash, her face in intense concentration. She didn't say the spell. A half orb of silver light shimmered around her, rapidly becoming darker and more solid, soon looking like half of a giant metal ball in front of her.

"Good, the solidifying was a little slow, work on that, but good job on doing it silently. You may sit trainee Smith."

The instructor moved leisurely from the wall and walked until he was in front of Harry, towering over him. "You see that, Boy-Who-Lived? That's why we have N.E.W.T. requirements."

* * *

Hours later Harry flooed into his dark living room, turning on his lights by tapping his wand against the wall. Virgil was standing on the back of the couch, his wide dark eyes looking at Harry intently.

"Hey Virgil… Today...Today was not so great...pretty much exactly what I feared it was going to be, really…"

Virgil gave a soft sound and flew to Harry's shoulder, rubbing his beak against Harry's cheek, clinking against his glasses. Harry grinned and moved to the couch, pulling off his robes and throwing them on the opposite chair, and put Virgil on his lap, rubbing the soft white feathers on his chest.

They sat like that for a while, Virgil blinking lazily, Harry relaxing more and more into the couch, when the floo burst to life once again.

Ginny's face came spinning into the green flames. "Harry!"

Harry smiled, moving to the end of the couch by the fire. "Ginny!"

The smiled at each other stupidly. "I-I miss you. And I want to know how your first day went?"

Harry's smile faltered. "I miss you too. And, well, it went, uh, it went kind of how I expected it to."

Ginny frowned, concerned. "You weren't feeling too optimistic about it, so…"

Harry sighed, leaning back into the couch. "Today was mostly going over the training schedule, various rules and requirements, and you know, humiliating me."

"Oh, no." Ginny frowned further, "What did they do?"

"I was picked on for the whole Harry Potter thing, which I was hoping they were just going to ignore, but no, quite the opposite. They're a lot of spells that we are suppose to have down before we start training. I know about half of them. Everyone else knows most of them. So the instructor had a lot of fun pointing out how much I don't know. And making everyone say sir every other word, which is obnoxious."

"Do you have a list of the spells?"

"Yeah." Harry pulled a folded list from his pocket and kneeled in front of the fire, showing Ginny.

Her eyes glanced down the page, her mouth falling open. "This looks like most of the spells that we were told we're going to learn this year in Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration, Harry. That's a lot."

Harry shrugged. "I do know about half of them… And I can't complain. When I interviewed, I said that I can learn whatever spells I needed to."

Ginny looked sympathetic. "It does look you'll have some catching up to do, Harry, but don't get discouraged, I know you can do it. Maybe you could ask George for some help with the transfiguration spells, he's quite good at those. And Bill is amazing at charms..."

"Thanks, maybe I'll ask...But other than being under-prepared, the instructor is a complete ass. He talked to us like we are trash that rolled in from the street and happened to have the ability to talk."

Ginny grinned, "I've heard that's how they talk to all the new trainees."

Harry shook his head, "I really don't like him…"

Ginny smiled, "Harry...Don't take this the wrong way but, you know, you've always had problems with authority."

Harry sat back, indignant. "I do not."

Ginny laughed, incredulous. "Yes, you do. It's practically Hogwarts legend that you told Snape that he didn't have to call you sir."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but paused. "Harry, you don't have to like him, he isn't your friend. Just...try not to blow up at him, okay?"

"Fine...If you think I should be mature about it, or whatever…"

Ginny smiled softly at him and Harry slumped forward, all his earlier indignation leaving him. He could do better than this. Sighing, he looked back at Ginny. "How was the first week, Ms. Head Girl?"

It was Ginny's turn to look forlorn, "It's been chaotic. It's been hard, being back with all the memories, and the castle has random problems, some of the repairs haven't stuck too well. Everyone is frantic because we are all assigned just an incredible amount of homework, trying to catch up from last year, and the first years are either kind of terrified because they know what's happened or completely confused because they don't know what's happened. I'm glad Hermione is here, seriously. She is like half teacher, half student and is very good at acting as a liaison of sorts between them."

Harry looked consideringly at Ginny's overwhelmed frown and leaned forward. "Ginny, can you give me your hand?"

"Why?" Ginny grimaced, putting her hand through the fire and out towards Harry.

He grabbed it lightly, then tightly, and pulled, the rest of Ginny falling out of the fireplace in a heap. He pulled her to her feet and hugged her, putting his chin on top of her head and smiling.

"Harry James Potter, I'm going to get into so much trouble for leaving without permission." Ginny's annoyed voice was muffled against his chest but she still wrapped her arms around his waist.

Harry leaned back a little, looking down into her face. "Not too much trouble, I hope?"

Ginny shrugged, moving back in closer to him. "I don't really care."

Harry chuckled and kissed the top of her head. "I didn't think you would."

"It will get better, Harry." He could feel her smiling against his chest.

* * *

"These first six months are just a taste of what you are going to be experiencing over the next two years. Like me or not, I'm like a warm, fluffy primary school teacher compared to what you will be facing once you get out of basic training. Especially now, as we have had to condense a lot training to get you through all of this faster. We need replacements."

Aonghus' usual bored, dismissive look slipped away for a second as he stared blankly at the wall, grief in his eyes. He blinked once and his usual expression was back.

"All of this is going to be handled differently, as you are all a much larger group than what we are use to. In general we will have maybe two trainees at a time, every few years or so, and this is usually handled more like an apprenticeship with intermittent testing of skills. As we talked about yesterday, the auror department is currently too small for that type of program. I'll get you up to speed as much as possible in this classroom setting, so that you at least won't be a constant hindrance to your mentor once you leave as they will have enough work to do. That's why I expect you to know, at the very least, seventh year Hogwarts spells." Aonghus' eyes snapped over to Harry, the annoyance on his face clear.

"As we talked about yesterday, this first month we are going to go over moving spell work and how to fight in groups and in pairs and what spells and tools are useful for taking down most petty criminals that don't know their wand from their arse. This will provide a basis from which we can add the other skills we will learn, like basic detection, disguise, tracking, and so on. For now, let's see what you got and do a preliminary duel to get a basic idea of skill and what needs to be worked on."

The trainees glanced at each other rapidly, nervous, all except Harry who felt with sinking certainty that this wasn't going to end well for him.

"Trainee Potter, your experience is this area is very well known and may intimidate your fellow trainees. I think it might be beneficial for you to show how it is done for everybody else." Aonghus' tone was sharp and mocking as he walked to the front of the room.

Harry wasn't sure how defeating Voldemort made this man doubt him so much but he was quickly losing patience with it. He thought of Ginny telling him not to blow up at his instructor and swallowed back his anger, getting up calmly and moving towards the front of the room.

Aonghus, stared at him for long second before bowing, his wand pointed towards the floor. Harry followed suit, surprised. He thought that Aonghus would have started in on him right away.

Aonghus was no longer smirking, instead his face looked very still, concentration making his sharp eyes clear. Harry suddenly felt nervous instead of angry. Despite his mocking tone earlier, Aonghus seemed to be taking him seriously.

He slashed a silent spell, his expression unchanging. Harry dodged, sending a silent stunner back that didn't even come close to hitting him, Aonghus smoothly stepping away, his face still calm. Aonghus sent a golden spell that Harry couldn't dodge because it seemed dissipate into the air. Harry took a step back, uncertain, and the room turned upside down. Harry recognized it from the fourth task and stepped out of it while sending a disarming spell that Aonghus had to use a shield spell against.

As Aonghus was putting up the shield spell and the world was righting itself , Harry sent a reductor curse that seemed to be made of all of his frustrations. It slowed down at Aonghus' shield but blew threw it, sending him into the wall with a grunt. Harry moved forward, half way through another disarming spell when noticed that Aonghus wasn't aiming his wand at Harry but at the wall behind him. Harry turned his body, but a thick mat summoned from the wall still clipped his shoulder, spinning him into the floor. Before he could take a breath he felt thick ropes circle his arms and legs. Harry vanished them but felt his wand summoned from his hand as he rolled onto his knees. Growling with frustration Harry pulled the mat the just knocked him over in front of him, waiting for the next spell, his mind working quickly.

"Snap. Let's pretend that I just snapped your wand, Trainee, and call it quits here." Aonghus threw Harry his wand, standing, his face very stiff.

Harry stood as well, letting the mat drop to the floor. He felt his shoulders stiffen, waiting for the barrage of insults that he was sure was coming.

"Alright, trainee Ailna, what did trainee Potter do well?"

Harry's mouth fell open a little, his eyes snapping over to Ailna, who looked back at him equally surprised before looking back at Aonghus, stammering, "Uh, well, uh, sir, he moved very quickly, with no hesitation. He, um, he seemed to have a good...sense for when and what you were going to do. Sir."

"Good enough answer. Trainee Barran, what did trainee Potter do wrong?"

Barran sat forward, eager. "Sir, he used only very basic spells, ones that weren't as effective, sir."

Aonghus leaned back against the wall, his face paling a little. "Yes and no, trainee."

Barran's face turned a little red, frowning.

"You see, yes, Potter's spells were basic and easy to counter,which is a problem. But they were very practical. Though Potter's lack of spell knowledge is a hindrance, his experience in the battle field is not. While Potter will need to work on his spell knowledge in order to match you, you all will need to work on your instincts and reflexes to match him. And all of you will have to work equally to add the more complicated spells to your reflexes, so that the solid shield spell happens just as easily as a regular protego. That is what we will be working on this month." Aonghus tapped his ribs with his wand, grimacing. "And none of you should look down on basic but effective spells. I believe that trainee Potter broke two of my ribs with that reductor."

Aonghus looked at Harry and nodded his head back to the other trainees. Harry sat back down, frowning. All of that was very clear, good advice. Maybe he needed to rethink Aonghus.

Aonghus stretched his side, no longer pale but still grimacing a little. He moved back over to the group. "Be prepared to be uncomfortable for the next month, we are going to be injuring each other a lot. Unless you are facing the Chosen One. Apparently his go to spell is expelliarmus, or, if he is feeling creative, fifth year defence spells." Harry gritted his teeth, annoyed once more.

* * *

"So, basically, I have no idea what to make of him, really." Harry was leaning against the arm of the couch, Teddy gurgling in his lap, a potions soaked rag wrapped around his ankle. Tea things and plates were stacked on the table. Andy and Hermione were sipping tea on the couch opposite, Ron sitting in the chair adjacent.

Ron, his mouth full of scone, frowned. "And I thought I was having it rough over at George's. I burnt off all of this arm hair, look. And apparently George is a stickler about all things business. He has quite the serious side to him. Even when Fred was around, it seems George was more of the task master."

There was the tense silence that always followed after any mentioned Fred, but Ron shrugged, moving past it,"But you had to duel, what, eight people for nine hours, so I think you win."

Hermione side eyed the bits of scone the Ron spat out as he talked before looking at Harry. "How did everyone else do?"

Harry smiled as Teddy wrapped his tiny hands around Harry's finger, lightly patting down his bright purple tuffs of hair. "They were fine. They did know a lot more spells than me, but Aonghus was right, they still think too much, hesitate a lot."

Andy put her tea down, "So it sounds like he knows that he is talking about, at least."

"Sure, I just wish he would lay off with all the Chosen One, Boy-Who-Lived stuff, I don't get why he's doing it, it's like I've offended him. But even he admits that I have skills the others don't, so it's not like he thinks I got in off my good looks or something."

"Maybe he's doing it on purpose. If I hadn't, I don't know, fought alongside you for the entire time, I too might feel weird working with you. Maybe he is giving you all a common enemy. Maybe he is picking on you more for the whole saving everyone thing so that your teammates side with you, no longer feel awkward about it with you, so they feel like they can bring it up?" Hermione looked thoughtful, Andy nodding beside her.

Ron swallowed whatever was in his mouth. "Or he thinks that Harry has a big head from all the fame and everything and wants to remind him that just because he defeated You-Know… Voldemort, he isn't perfect."

Andy smiled over at Harry. "He's probably doing both."

Around ten, a couple of hours after everyone left, Harry stacked the dishes in the sink, mentally reminding himself to do it later.

He peeked at Teddy who was sound asleep in his crib, hand clutching a stuffed snitch.

He stretched and groaned, checking his ankle, no longer purple and swollen from Taylor's tripping hex because of Andy's thoughtfully applied potion.

Harry imaged, as he brushed his teeth, that it was years from now, that he had just finished checking in on his own child, their hair red and messy in their crib, crawling into bed next to an already sleeping Ginny, his body aching. He imagined Ginny waking him in the morning and giving him potions for his injuries, grumbling as she cleaned bloody spots from the sheets.

He imagined getting too involved in the auror department, spending too much time there, neglecting his family and his own happiness, missing important days and small moments that make a family.

He moved into his bedroom, leaning his head against the glass of his now much wider window, the pale green curtains Ginny had picked moving slightly in night breeze. He didn't want that. He didn't want to be that Dad who was never there.

The curtain touched his shoulder just slightly, barely, and Harry shivered, remembering the darkness of his dream, how it filled his eyes and mouth and nose. He remembered the cold of the ghosts telling him they were never leaving.

He had to make it up to them. He could make the people in his life happy, he could be a good father and husband, a good friend, and he could be a good auror. He could try to atone for his not moving fast enough, for his letting all those people die while he sat in a tent, by being a good auror. He could protect the happiness of his loved ones as well.

How he was going to do it was another question.

A/N: Thank you all again for all the favorites, followings, and reviews, they really make my day. I'm not sure if I mentioned this already but I plan on this fic being sixteen chapters. I've planned it that way from the start, so I thought I would mention it in case I haven't already.


	13. It Takes a Great Deal of Bravery

**It Takes a Great Deal of Bravery**

"Harry, I really need your help."

Andy was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, dishevelled looking, Teddy on one hip, his bag looped around her other arm, a trunk of potion ingredients floating behind her.

Harry brought down his wet comb from his hair, his mouth hanging open in confusion. "But...Today...Ginny, it's Hogsmeade weekend…"

Andy's own mouth tightened, tears swimming in her eyes. "Oh, Oh Harry, yes, if you already have plans, I don't mean to assume that…"

Harry turned towards Andy, looking carefully at her face. "What's going on Andy?"

Swallowing thickly, Andy stepped back from the room. "Oh no, have a good time in Hogsmeade, Harry. I shouldn't have just burst in here anyway, complete violation of…"

Harry stepped forward, taking Teddy from Andy's arms. "Andy, you and Teddy are family. In general, yes, asking first is prefered, but if there is some sort of emergency, you have to let me know, that's what I'm here for."

Andy burst into tears, covering her face with her hands. If Harry hadn't been holding a sleeping Teddy in his arms at that moment, he would have panicked and assumed something had happened to him. Harry reached forward, placing a steadying hand on Andy's shoulder. "What's happened?"

She wiped at her face, her hands shaky, her voice choked. "Teddy had a fever last night. I was scared to death that it was the onset of dragon pox, but that doesn't seem to be it. He stayed up all night crying, only went to sleep an hour or so ago. He's fever is gone, and I don't wonder if it wasn't a touch the Changeling Cough, just a common, mild sickness that wizard babies are prone too. At any rate, he's fine now but I haven't slept at all. Then, shortly after Teddy had gone to sleep, St. Mungo's calls me and asks me to help. There was apparently a huge problem at the Department of Mysteries and half of the Unspeakables are there with strange problems that they don't know how to diagnose and they need all the potions masters London can spare to come help. And...and…" Andy let out a strange, gasping breath, her eyes filling again, her voice barely above a whisper, "And it's Dora's birthday…"

Harry looked consideringly into Andy's exhausted face and dropped his hand from her shoulder. He instead moved it to the bag on her arm, which he put on the floor, then he moved closer, pulling her into an awkward side hug, her cheek on his shoulder, Teddy still asleep in his other arm. "I'll send a message to Ginny, letting her know what's happened. Are you sure that you should be going to Mungo's like this, with everything?"

Andy patted his back and moved away, giving him a watery smile. "It really sounds like they need help. And honestly, I'd rather be busy there than at home, remembering...But Harry, if you already have plans, then…"

Harry shook his head, "What can you do? Things don't always go as planned. If you insist on going to St. Mungo's at least have a wellness potion. I've been taking them here and there when auror training gets...when it's a little intense." Harry moved over to the cabinet above the sink and pulled out a small bottle. "Also, once your done come back here and rest, I'll make you something. You shouldn't have been trying to do today alone anyway."

Andy took the bottle from his hand and took a deep breath, swallowing it in one go with a grimace. She looked up at him, her colour already much better, her eyes more focused, and patted his head once, then twice, a small smile on her face. "You really a good person, Harry. I'm sorry, and thank you. I'm not sure what time I'll be back…"

Harry gave her a small smile back and shook his head, "Get going then."

Andy leaned forward and kissed Teddy's cheek, then waved goodbye to Harry, her footsteps moving quickly down the hallway.

Pulling out his wand, Harry sighed. He needed to send a Patronus to Ginny, who was probably already waiting, irritated, by the Three Broomsticks.

* * *

Harry was reading through a copy of the chapter Hermione was studying for Charms that had spells he needed for training, her notes and underlines taking up every square inch of the margin, when his fireplace burst into green. Ginny came tumbling out a second later, falling over in a heap of robes and ash, coughing. Teddy, who was asleep in a bundle of blankets next to Harry, squirmed, waking up with a squeal.

Ginny stood, grumbling, waving her wand over her robes, removing the ash. She looked up, grinning at Harry before swooping in on Teddy who looked grumpy but didn't start crying, his hair black, his eyes a dark green. "Surprise! McGonagall gave me permission."

"Did she?" Harry said, standing, smiling widely, but one eyebrow raised in disbelief.

Ginny shrugged, snuggling her face into Teddy's stomach, making him giggle. "More like she rolled her eyes and said that it seemed unlikely that I would listen to her either way, so I might as well go. She gave me a midnight curfew though…" Ginny placed Teddy back down and he looked up at them, his arms waving slightly, gurgling, his eyes already drifting back to sleep.

Harry stepped closer to her, grinning, kissing her cheek gently, "Do you think you'll listen about the curfew as well?"

Ginny smiled up at him, her eyes glittering. "Maybe. I mean, who's watching that closely? What's five or ten minutes past do?"

Harry pulled her closer, moving her hair to the side and giving her neck one small kiss before moving up to her ear and whispering, "I was thinking a little later than five or ten minutes."

He felt Ginny shiver slightly and grinned.

"But couldn't Andy come back at anytime?" Ginny moved back and looked up at him, a little disappointed looking.

Harry frowned, "Damn."

The fire burst into suddenly into green again. Harry sighed.

"Trainee Potter, we need you at the ministry right now. Whatever the unspeakables have done has caused chaos all of a sudden, strange animals running everywhere...It's all hands on deck. Particularly because we all know you are somewhat familiar with the, the p-place…" Aonghus stuttered to a stop, his eyes glancing between Ginny standing behind Harry, to Teddy laying on asleep on the couch, his eyes widening.

Harry rolled his eyes, "Auror Aonghus, I can't. I'm watching my godson and have my girlfriend over right now."

Aonghus' eyes narrowed slightly, looking less shocked but more suspicious. "Right. You'll have to find a babysitter."

Harry frowned, thinking. "I am the babysitter though. How am I supposed to…"

"That's a problem you'll have to figure out, isn't it? I was going to give you ten, but because I'm nice, I'll now give you thirty. Be here at twenty-one hundred sharp, or it will be your head, trainee."

Aonghus popped out of the fire. Harry scowled at the now red flames.

Ginny laughed lightly behind him, "Well, he's just as charming as you said. Harry. Don't worry, I'll watch Teddy. Andy will probably be back before my curfew and if she's not I'll let McGonagall know. Either way, it sounds like you need to get ready."

Harry turned and looked at Ginny. "It seems that we just can't have any kind of date today. I'm sorry."

Ginny shook her head and stood up her her toes, kissing his cheek. "Get going then, be safe, I love you."

Harry smiled, summoning his training robes and squeezing her hand. "I love you, too."

Harry fell through his fireplace six hours later, exhausted and smelling slightly of burnt hair. He moved upstairs and looked into the playroom, Teddy sound asleep, his small chest rising and falling underneath his fuzzy blue and green blanket.

He moved to his bedroom and paused before tapping his wand against the wall. There was someone in his bed.

Ginny was a sleeping in one of his shirts, curled into a ball, the blankets around her stomach. Her hair was splayed across the pillow, looking like spilled wine in the dark.

Harry removed his robes and sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. "Ginny?"

Ginny sat up quickly, almost jumping, looking around the room with wide eyes. Harry shot lumos at the wall, lighting the room instantly.

Ginny blinked at him, once, then twice, then moved over to him under the covers, concerned. "What time is it?"

"Three in the morning."

"Good grief...why do you smell like...burnt…"

"I smell like burnt hair. Most of mine was singed by a Blast-Ended Skrewt. There were three massive ones, I mean just huge, wandering around the brain room, do you remember it? I guess the Unspeakables figured out what they like to eat, for some unknown reason. Luckily Smith was able to fix it for me, or I would look even more stupid than usual."

Ginny's face twitched, suppressing a laugh. "So, is everyone alright?"

Harry grinned. "Yeah, from what I've heard even the Unspeakables in St. Mungo's will be fine. I mean physically. Though who knows about their jobs, there will definitely be an inquiry about this. It was chaos, pure magical chaos. Andy isn't back yet?"

Ginny shook her head, frowning. Harry hummed. "She's going to be exhausted. That will be two nights up."

Ginny moved from under the covers and stretched. "I should get going, told McGonagall that I would come straight back when one of you showed up. "

Harry grabbed her hand between both of his. "Do you have to?"

Ginny brushed his hair back, a sad smile on her face. "I really do need to go back, Harry. I have a lot I need to do before classes on Monday." She moved to pull her hand away, but Harry gripped tighter, not letting her slide away.

He was so tired it felt like there was a dark fog at the corner of his eyes, but it felt strangely empty to let Ginny just leave like this. The words fell from his mouth before he could consciously think of what he was saying. "What if it's always like this?"

Ginny frowned at his weary expression and sat down beside him, her hand still between his. "What if what is always like this?"

The dark fog at the corner of his eyes seemed to be in his brain as well, taking the edge off of everything. Everything seemed to be a little far away. "Being an auror."

Ginny considered him for a minute, "You mean the long, random work hours? Yeah, I mean, even Dad had to work random hours sometimes, even back in peaceful times, so you as an auror are definitely going to have to work shit hours."

"But what if that makes me miss everything. Important things?"

Ginny placed her hand on top of his, her thumb rubbing in small circles. "You mean, like, if you ever have children or anything?"

Harry nodded, then shook his head. "Yes… No. I mean, yeah, if I ever have kids that seems like that would be a problem. But I mean… I mean I should be an auror, I don't know what else to do, nothing else seems to make sense. I think I want to be an auror but…"

"You don't want to just be an auror." Ginny's face looked at him in understanding. Harry couldn't see how she could, as he didn't even understand. "What else do you want to be, Harry? What else besides a job?"

The dark corners of his tiredness made Ginny oddly fuzzy. He couldn't figure out why he was so tired. He had stayed up later, in different times, doing worse. But the tiredness almost seemed like a physical weight on him just then, putting pressure on his chest.

The words left him like air escaping a locked room, again almost without knowledge, a weary admission, tinged with just a small amount of shame. "I want to be happy."

Ginny's hand stilled on his, her expression so soft she looked almost afraid. "Do you think being an auror will make you unhappy?"

Harry shrugged, thinking for a minute. "Honestly, it doesn't seem to be either here nor there."

"What do you mean?"

"I think I'll make a good auror. But I feel like I could be miserable as an auror or happy as an auror. It's the same thing with anything else. Let's say I wanted to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I feel like I could be happy or unhappy doing that as well. I think whatever I'm doing, whether I like it or not, depends on me."

"I'm sorry, I-I'm not following, Harry."

"Am I allowed to be happy?" This question was intentional, squeezed from his chest with effort. He suddenly felt very awake. Everything, in that moment, seemed to be hanging on Ginny's answer. Everything in his life, just then, would be molded by her face, the intensity of her eyes, the shape of her lips around her thoughts, whether or not the corners of her mouth would paint her words with truth.

"Of course, Harry. Of course. It's all I, all of us, want for you. We want so badly for you to be happy."

Harry couldn't look away from her face. She looked desperate, her eyes wet. She meant it.

* * *

"Ron, why did you leave?"

Ron paused from his unpacking and storing of various ingredients and supplies, his back towards Harry, stiffening.

"Leave?" He voice was quieter, not at all like his usual tone. He started putting things back on the shelves.

"In the forest." Harry was leaning against the wall, he hands deep in his training robe's pockets.

Ron was quiet, his profile as he turned this way and that, putting things away, looked pale and grim. "I was jealous."

"It wasn't because I was failing? Because I was leading you all no where?"

Ron paused again and then stopped and leaned against the shelves, crossing his arms over his chest. He face then look older than Harry had ever seen it. He was once again struck with the knowledge that he was looking at Ron as an adult.

"You don't really think that, do you?"

It was Harry's turned to put his arms across his chest. He nodded.

Ron frowned and looked at Harry for a long moment. "We knew all that you knew, mate. I wasn't being fair when I blamed you for being lost. I mean, Dumbledore made us a little lost on purpose, even, didn't he?"

"But I should have known better, should have asked Dumbledore questions while I could have."

"Did you know that Dumbledore was going to die?"

"No, of course not. But still, I didn't take things seriously enough, I didn't think…"

Ron uncrossed his arms. "You didn't do everything perfect, but you can't, none of us can. Not even Hermione. You made mistakes, but you did your best, and things turned out alright, didn't they?"

Harry glanced around the shop, his eyes moving the the ceiling through which they could hear George's footsteps. "Did they?"

Ron frowned and looked at his feet. "I don't think...it's not like I'm thinking, 'yeah, the war's over, all our dead loved ones were totally worth it', but…"

Ron scratched at his head, messing his hair. This was not a topic he felt confident in. "But, it was a war. I would have died fighting You...V-Voldemort. I could have, and I went into that mess knowing that, and so did they."

Harry frowned deeply at the floor as Ron continued. "The war wasn't just about you, Harry. We were all fighting Voldemort, not just you. We all were."

Ron moved a few steps closer, looking very uncertain. "I left because I was jealous. That stupid locket didn't help, of course, but it was all my own jealousy. You've always been… And you and Hermione get each other really well sometimes… Look, the point is, the more and more jealous I became, the less you became a person."

Harry looked up, startled. Ron's face was red with shame, but he didn't look away. "I was so jealous of how central you were, to everybody, to the war, that I started to think of you less as Harry, my mate in a really tight spot, and more as Harry Potter, the Chosen One. And the locket, my own stupid head, they thought, well, if he's so important, so central, than why isn't he doing better? Why isn't he running around being a bleeding hero, then." Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, the self hatred in his eyes burning.

"It wasn't on, mate. It was…"

Harry felt like his insides were squirming. This was the most uncomfortable conversation that he has ever had with Ron. But it needed to be said.

"You're my best friend. I wouldn't have made it through this war without you."

Ron half smiled, mostly sardonic. "You and Hermione would have done fine without me. I know that."

Harry shook his head. "Hermione is very important to me. But we were a mess without you. And I would be dead a few times over without you, what with the sword in the pond and everything."

Ron's face cleared a little, some of the burning in his eyes leaving him. But he looked as convinced that he was integral to the war as Harry was convinced that all those deaths weren't his fault.

* * *

Andy was petting Virgil absently, bouncing Teddy in his play chair with her foot as she read.

"Finally up, eh?"

Andy looked up at him, smiling a little guiltily. "I got up around noon."

"Good, you deserve as much sleep as you can get. You looked half dead Sunday morning."

Andy shrugged, making room for Harry on the couch. Harry took over bouncing Teddy, who looked up at him with intense concentration, holding out a large, shimmering ring. It still dropped from his hand and vexation entered his baby face. Harry reached down and got it for him, grinning. "I love him."

Andy turned to look at Harry with raised eyebrows and a bright smile. "Good."

Harry glanced at the clock. "Have you eaten yet? I'm starving."

Andy shook her head and Harry stood only to flop back down as Andy grabbed his arm. "I'll go make us dinner. All I've done is sleep and read for two days while you've been at work. It's the least I can do for ruining your date."

Harry frowned as Andy stood. "But I said I would make you something, remember? Before you left for the hospital."

Andy shook her head, a curiously sad grin on her face. "You're such an odd eighteen year old, Harry Potter. I want to make dinner, so stay there."

A half hour later, Harry was sitting in front of plates towering with food. Breads, meats, potatoes, a bowl of pasta, a steaming pot of vegetables. "I know I said I was starving, but this a little much, probably even for Ron."

Andy shook her head. "I want you to have some left overs."

Harry looked up at her, feeling warmed by this. "Thanks. That will be nice, especially on nights I get home late."

They chatted about work, her potions, how Aonghus was an ass. They talked about how Teddy was doing, what new colours his hair was turning. Andy asked about Ginny and Harry blushed his way through his answers. Harry asked about Andy's social life and she spoke brightly of her various friends, how jealous they were of Teddy, how they all wanted grandbabies.

At the end of the night, Andy reached over and took Harry's hand, Teddy against one shoulder, his bag over the other. "I'm so glad you're his godfather, really. I knew something of your feats, Dora told me all about you, but I didn't understand her fondness until I met you."

Harry blinked back his emotion, reminded of his first meeting with Dobby.

Andy pinched a little floo powder and tossed it in, the flames turning large and green. "Like I dream of Teddy being happy, I want you to be happy too, Harry. Understand?"

Harry nodded hesitantly as Andy gave him a wise, unworried look before twirling away back to her own house.


	14. Of A Teaspoon

**Of A Teaspoon**

"You're suspended, Potter. For a week."

Harry couldn't look up from his hands clenched into tight fists in his lap. He was afraid that if he looked up right now that he would say something he would regret.

He tried to take a few calming breaths but wondered if it didn't just sound like enraged gasping. He thought of Ginny telling him not to lose his temper and tried again, this time some of the red leaving his vision.

He glanced up, Athenahold looking at him with a frown, uncomfortable. St. James was looking down at the desk, his arms crossed over his chest.

"So you punish your employees for saving lives?" Not quite polite, not quite reasonable, but miles away from what his brain was screaming moments before.

Athenahold sighed, "We punish employees for ignoring orders and endangering teammates."

"Everyone is fine though. They could, and can, handle themselves, why…'

"They are fine despite you, not because of you, Harry." St. James spoke softly, meeting Harry's eyes for the first time since he was called in.

Harry had been looking at Athenahold this whole time, feeling defensive at her weary face. Now that he looked, he realized that St. James was the one who was furious, his voice a dangerous kind of quite. Harry felt a little thrown. St. James was never furious. "I...I just don't understand what...what you would have had me do…" Harry felt his anger bleeding away under St. James' fury. He felt like he was thirteen again in Remus' office as he called him out on his stupidity with the map.

"I know you don't, Harry. Because you are a trainee. That's why you were there to watch, to learn, to understand procedure in action. Not to disrupt procedure, doing whatever you want and endangering everyone around you!" St. James' voice increased in volume as he spoke, until his words echoed in Athenahold's office. He slammed a fist on the desk, turning away from Harry, his hands on his hips.

"I-I wasn't trying to...The procedure wasn't working, those people were in danger!" Harry's voice sounded more desperate than angry.

St. James turned sharply back around, his face livid. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, apparently overcome. Finally his words came out as a hiss, mean. "We all know that you are perfectly alright with dying."

"Excuse me?" Harry felt like he had been slapped across the face.

"John…" Athenahold warned, her head in her hands.

"No, it needs to be said. We all know that you'll die for your cause. We understand that you're a hero. But all of us aren't like that, we shouldn't be like that. When we become aurors we understand that there is danger, a big danger, and we accept that responsibility in order to protect society. But we don't make danger for ourselves, we don't do things recklessly. Do you understand? At the end of the day we want all of our aurors to come home alive and fully intact. We don't have procedure because we like red tape, we have it to save our lives, not to mention the lives of the civilians around us. When you went tearing off after those wizards you added to the chaos, you made it hard to tell who was who, and you made it impossible for us to perform spells that would affect an area because it might affect you."

"But they were using Cruciatus on that child…"

"It doesn't matter, Potter." Athenahold looked up, rubbing her face. "Let me rephrase, it does matter, it matters a lot. But we have teams and strategies that would ultimately be more effective against multiple dark wizards in a crowded place. It pains us too, to let a child be hurt like that, but when you chased after them, shooting spells, you not only gave away your position but those of your teammates. You not only gave away that information, but the information that aurors were already there. You broke formation, you enabled that scum to start running, and you shot spells into a crowd of people."

"What if one of the Killing Curses those wizards were throwing at you hit someone else instead?" St. James sighed, slumped against the wall, all the anger leaving him, making him look like an empty sail. Harry felt like a hand was closing around his throat, how dissapointed St. James looked.

"Take this week to think on what you've done. Try to really understand how badly you've actually fucked up. I want a paper, two thousand words, explaining all what you did and how all of it was wrong." St. James wouldn't even look at him anymore, instead he stared into the fire.

Anthenahold stood and moved towards the door. "Also, take this time to think about if this is the right fit for you. You fought long and hard on your own, we thank you for that, but perhaps you aren't made for teamwork? Perhaps after all the abuse by the Ministry, after all those years that adults failed you, maybe you are just too resistant to orders, to authority, to work as an auror? It isn't necessarily a bad thing, but not something we can condone." Athenahold held the door open and nodded her head out, telling Harry to leave. "Regardless, we expect to see you here next Monday at eight hundred sharp."

Harry stood to leave, walking through the door, and though he towered over Athenahold, even though he his frame filled the doorway, he still felt ten inches tall.

* * *

Harry apparated to Godric's Hollow. He took one look at the small, bustling village and apparated away again.

He arrived at the park in Surrey that he spent so much time brooding in when he was younger and sat down on the swing. He remembered his frustration then, he remembered wanting to be taken seriously, wanting to be an adult. He wondered where that confidence came from. He made a terrible adult now, he can't imagine why he thought he was ready when he was fifteen. Harry felt his stomach clench and he stood back up abruptly.

He apparated to the Hogwarts gates, the familiar castle glittering in the distance. He wanted to see Ginny. He wanted her to slap him on the back of the head for being stupid. He wanted to feel her arms circle his waist, her chin on his chest, her words to turn from scolding to comforting. But looking up at the castle all he could see was it in ruins, smoldering. In the corner of his eye he kept seeing the Dark Mark above the astronomy tower. Swallowing thickly Harry left.

He arrived to the sharp scent of the sea, its dark waters spraying him, making marks on his glasses. Away he could see the dark rocks that use to house a part of Voldemort's soul. He wondered what happened to the inferi there. He wondered if any of the enhancements were still working. He recalled the feeling of panic as they rose from their waters. He had been useless. Shivering, Harry left.

He arrived at the zoo. It was closed and empty but still smelled just as strongly of animals. He made his way towards the reptile house, his feet as sure as if he had been there yesterday. It was even eerier at night, completely dark save the sun lamps in all the cages. He walked towards the large Boa constrictor, whose glittering eyes seemed to see him. Harry couldn't be sure, but it seemed to recognize him. He raised his triangular head and hissed, his tongue flicking in and out. But Harry couldn't understand.

He was in Diagonally. The crowd had thinned, most of the shoppes closing.

He was in the Forest of Dean, looking at a small, innocent looking pond.

He was outside the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, still somehow glaringly bright, even with all of its lights turned off.

He was outside Andy's house. He wanted her to be angry at him. He wanted her to take his side. He dreaded both.

He was at the Burrow. He walked through it's lawns toward the pond, the moon shining in ripples on it. Sighing, he sat down. He had apparated too many times in a row and felt nauseous, tired and dizzy. But he liked the image of Ron and Ginny playing there, learning to swim, undoubtedly splashing each other meanly, trying to get water up each other's noses. Even if he didn't have his own fond childhood memories, at least he could borrow theirs.

He had sat there in a tired stupor for some unknown time when he saw wand light out of the corner of his eye. He turned towards it, squinting, his wand in his hand.

"H-Harry!? Harry Potter, is that you?"

"Mrs. Weasley! I-I, uh, I must have surprised you. I imagine your wards...I'm sorry, I really wasn't thinking…"

Mrs. Weasley stopped before him, her face a dark silhouette against the light. She sighed and gestured with her wand towards the house. "Come on then, let's have a cuppa."

Harry trailed after her, almost too tired to feel guilty. Almost. "I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley. I must have woken you up. I...I've had a bad day and the pond just popped into my mind…"

A warm dim light filled the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley gestured towards the table where tea things were already out. "As you can see, you didn't wake me at all. I was already have some tea when you showed up. I hardly sleep…" Mrs. Weasley blinked blearily into her cup, tapping it with her wand to make it steam again.

"What happened today that made it so bad, my dear?" Even in the ruddy light she looked pale.

"You look exhausted, Mrs. Weasley. Perhaps you should get back to bed, it's gotten late."

"Just tell me what it is, Harry. I'd rather think of your problems than my own." Her voice was snappish. She sounded more like McGonagall than herself.

Harry frowned, feeling ill at ease. "I really don't think…"

Mrs. Weasley slammed her cup down. "I wish you all would stop walking on eggshells around me, I'm not made of glass."

"You look like you're made of glass." Harry didn't understand how they ended up hissing at each other, but he felt very unsettled.

Mrs. Weasley stood, her expression thunderous, but then she swayed, her colour fading further. Harry stood as well, moving over to her as she sat back down in a slump, her head hanging, her shoulders curved. Harry knelt next to her chair, peering at her face, expecting tears, but instead there was a small smile there.

"Ah, Harry, I've loved you since you looked up at me with those green eyes of yours and asked how to get on the platform. And now here you are, watching me become undone like a real son." She took a deep breath and looked at him, her eyes softer, her expression more herself. She put her hand on his cheek. "And like a real mother, I'd love to hear about your day. I want to give you advice that you'll ignore at first and then consider later. I want to go to sleep with it on my mind."

Harry nodded, feeling a little lost. "If you want to talk to me, I insist that we do so on the couch."

Mrs. Weasley nodded, her eyes filling with tears that she blinked away. Harry helped her up and walked her to the living room, the tea set floating in behind them.

Harry placed a blanket over Mrs. Weasley's lap and sat across from her. Her colour seemed a little better again. "So, what's happened?"

Harry took a deep breath and fought the urge to run. He told Mrs. Weasley everything about his suspension. She listened, completely silent, occasionally sipping tea.

"And so, I don't know. I don't think I was completely wrong, but...I...I don't think I was right, either."

"Oh Harry, it does sound like you made a mess of things."

Harry's head snapped up from his tea. He swallowed thickly. "Yeah…"

"You don't need to beat yourself up for it, you know." Mrs. Weasley laid further down on the couch, her upper body leaning against the arm. "After a time, shame and guilt turn into a self serving thing. It becomes about how you feel bad, how sorry you are, rather than what you can to do makeup for whatever you've done, how to fix it. So rather than focusing on how you feel bad, or becoming defensive, you should write that paper, really think it through. Then when you go in next Monday, apologize, say you'll do better, then do better. No reason to play it over and over again in your head, or torture yourself, or anything like that." Mrs. Weasley voice became softer as she spoke. She slid further down, turning to her side.

Harry considered her. He'd never seen Mrs. Weasley like this, tired and grumpy and somehow still so maternal. Vulnerable. "So I'm not suppose to trust my judgement anymore, I'm just supposed to follow orders?"

She smiled at him, rolling her eyes a little. "Don't be such a teenager, Harry. Take a lesson from the criticism, and learn to consider their judgment as well as your own. Your confidence will be shaken for a while, but you'll figure it out. It's called maturing."

Harry snorted, grinning as he watched Mrs. Weasley's eyes slide closed. He stood and pulled the blanket higher, grabbing another and throwing that over her too. He leaned closer and whispered, "Good night, Mrs. Weasley."

As he was walking away, he felt her hand in his, stopping him gently. "You'd better call me Molly from now on, I think." She patted his hand and rolled over. Harry left The Burrow with a small smile, Mrs. Weasley's, Molly's, gentle snoring following him out the door.

* * *

Harry crumpled another piece of paper and threw it into the already over flowing bin. He leaned back in his chair, cracking his back. Virgil landed on the arm of his chair, hooting softly. "This is surprisingly difficult, you know?"

Virgil moved to Harry's shoulder, rubbing his fluffy head against Harry's face. "You're the best Virgil, really."

Virgil hooted again, moving closer, clicking his beak against Harry's glasses. Harry grinned, turning his face more into Virgil's fluffy chest.

"Should I leave you two alone?" Hermione looked half amused, half disgusted in the doorway.

Harry moved his face more into Virgil's feathers. "Would you?"

Hermione scoffed, sitting down on the couch with a groan, her bag landing with a thump against the floor.

"I hadn't realized it was already six. Time sure does fly by when you're failing to write essays about how bad of an auror you are."

"Really? Because writing essays about the different sub-laws of human transfiguration goes by very, very slowly."

Harry sat down next to her, grinning. "Hermione? Hermione Granger disparaging school work? Who are you and where did you get the Polyjuice from?"

Hermione glared at him as Ron entered the room, half his hair purple. Hermione and Harry started laughing as Ron sat down on the chair opposite of them. "Oh shove it. And don't ask." Harry and Hermione started laughing louder.

Ron moved Hermione's bag with his foot, grimacing as it only moved an inch. "Why on earth haven't you put a lightening charm on this?"

Hermione groaned, rubbing her shoulders. "I have put one on it."

It was Ron and Harry's turn to laugh.

"Oh, laugh at your teacher, will you?"

Ron and Harry glanced at each other, grinning. "Have you met us?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, reaching into her bag, sounding like she was carrying a movable library in there by the sounds of books falling over. "Here it is. Let's practice this. Fascinating how all of us need to learn this, isn't it?"

"Just sparking," Ron muttered, frowning as Hermione unrolled four feet of parchment.

Four hours later Harry was making tea, rubbing his cramped hand, Hermione and Ron bickering behind him.

"It's because you swish too much to the left, Ronald. Honestly, why can't you learn to take direction?"

"Why do you always have to make that face when you give directions?"

"What face?"

"That face! Like you've smelled something bad and need to stick your nose up to get away from it."

"I do not!"

"You're doing it right now!"

Harry put the tea down with a sigh. "It's lavender and chamomile, as it's getting a little late for anything with caffeine."

Hermione and Ron stared up at him, their mouths hanging open, before breaking out into peals of laughter. "Wh-What are you, an o-old w-woman?"

"Just drink it, would you? It tastes good. We should probably practice at least another hour…"

Still giggling, Hermione and Ron took sips. "Fine, it is good. But still. When you said that, I just pictured you in a frilly apron…"

Harry flicked his wand at Ron, making the tea cup tip up, spilling the tea down his chin. "Oi!"

Hermione grinned at Ron before sighing. "I don't really feel like doing another hour right now."

"Maybe you two could stay the night? We could practice in the morning before you two have to go? You can choose whatever rooms you like. Ginny prefers the green one whenever she says over though, so maybe not that one, I think it has some of her stuff in it."

Harry took a sip of tea, glancing up at the sudden quiet. Ron's face was turning steadily redder, Hermione was looking at Ron with growing apprehension. "Think this through, Ron, she stays in a separate room…"

"Stays over a lot, does she?" Ron's voice was surprisingly reasonable for how red his face was.

Harry nodded. He sighed, putting his cup down. "You're surprised? You know that Ginny and I are dating?"

"It...It just didn't occur to me...I mean, over at The Burrow and at Hogwarts you two always had other people around, but here…"

Hermione added honey to her tea, making a show of stirring it in and sipping it. "Good tea, really. Very tasty. Good idea Harry."

Ron and Harry ignored her, staring at each other. Ron swallowed a few times, apparently gathering the courage to ask, "Have you two...Are you two, you know?"

Harry looked at Ron for a long moment, frowning. He nodded once. Ron stood up, then sat back down, then glanced at Hermione. "You knew?"

Hermione looked over at him, her eyes wide over the rim of her tea cup.

Ron groaned, then ran a hand through his hair, then stood up again, then made a strange growling, choking noise, then sat back down again. He seemed to be having some sort of stroke. "Ron, you know I love her very much, right?"

Ron nodded, then shook his head, then groaned again, putting his head in his hands, his voice muffled. "I don't know why I asked a question I didn't want to know the answer to, really."

Hermione and Harry exchanged quick glances across the table, worried.

Suddenly Ron snapped his head up, "Hermione and I are sleeping together." Hermione spat her tea out in a fine mist, her face instantly bright red.

"Ron!" They said at the same time, horrified.

Ron shrugged. "There, now we can be all uncomfortable together."

Hermione hit Ron on the shoulder once, then twice. "Ronald Weasley, I ought to… I ought to… That wasn't just your personal information to give you giant prat!"

Harry groaned, putting his head in his hands. "Why did this conversation even happen?"

Ron rapped his knuckles on the table. Hermione and Harry looked up at him, their faces still red but Ron's surprisingly calm. "You said that you love Hermione like a sister, right?"

Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, Hermione looking slightly taken aback. "Yeah, I do."

Hermione beamed at him. "Ah, I love you, too, Harry."

Ron shot her a sharp look, which Hermione ignored, still looking a little moved. "Point is, Ginny is my sister, and Hermione is like yours, right? So we'll make a pact. If one of us hurts one of our sisters, then the other one will have every right to kick his arse."

Hermione opened her mouth, agast. "Of all the barbaric...I should rather think that if Ginny or I were hurt, we would kick your arses first…"

"Deal." Harry and Ron shook hands over the table, while Hermione rolled her eyes, her arms crossed over her chest, but a small smile on her lips.


	15. A Fickle Friend

**A Fickle Friend**

Harry entered Athenahold's office to find her on a firecall with Aonghus.

"Trainee Potter. You can put the letter on the corner there, St. James will pick it up later." She turned back around, her posture stiff, Aonghus' face tense in the green flames.

Harry opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. He had prepared a whole speech about how he was sorry, that he did want to be an auror. He put the letter on the desk and backed out slowly, feeling a little disjointed. The moment he closed the door he heard them start talking, their voices harsh even through the door.

It was anticlimactic.

Harry shook his head and walked towards the training room, wondering why Aonghus was fire calling from there.

But Aonghus wasn't there. It was just Taylor, Smith, Ailna, and Barran. The other three had dropped out here and there, exasperated. Ailna and Taylor gave him small smiles, Smith nodded, and Barran smirked.

"Not like Aonghus to be late." Taylor broke the silence.

"He was on a firecall with Athenahold a few minutes ago, I was at her office."

Barran's smirk widen. "Perhaps Aonghus is trying to get you kicked out. Won't come back to teach us until you're gone. Don't blame him, really."

Harry gritted his teeth, expecting a wash of anger to come over him, but was surprised when it didn't. He had met a few bullies in his life and Barran just didn't seem to warrant the energy it would take to deal with him.

Instead, ignoring Barran's attitude, he addressed what he said. "I wonder if that's it. It didn't seem to be a happy conversation."

Smith frowned. "I don't think so, Potter. Aonghus picks on you a lot, but I don't think he actually hates you."

"Plus, you're hands down the best of us. It would be stupid of them to let you go." Taylor gave Harry a hard to read half smile.

Harry smiled back, shrugging. "Or it isn't about me at all."

"Ultimately it's pointless to guess. We don't know." Ailna's serious face looked at them all in turn. "Potter, were you able to practice the spells and potions while you were suspended?"

Harry couldn't help himself and smiled at her. Ailna was always direct with absolutely no tact. "Yeah, I was able to even try them in dueling situations with my friends. Not quite the same stress as having Aonghus breathing down your back, but Ron and Hermione are no joke."

"Good."

The fireplace burst into green, Athenahold's displeased face in the flames. "Aonghus has some personal things he needs to deal with and all other aurors are too busy to teach right now. Do you all know the Patronus spell yet?"

Harry and Smith nodded while everyone else shook their heads. Athenahold's lips thinned. "I know that Aonghus doesn't let you respond like that. Let's try that again. Do you know the Patronus spell yet?"

Harry and Smith answered Ma'am, yes, Ma'am while everyone else answered no. Athenahold nodded. "Okay, Trainees Potter and Smith, have you ever used them against actual dementors?"

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am."

"Ma'am, no, Ma'am."

Harry and Smith glanced at each other. Harry felt pretty surprised. He had encountered numerous dementors during the war, he had expected at least one other person to have as well.

"Trainee Smith, when did you learn the charm?"

"Ma'am, my Dad taught me last year. He was worried for… for obvious reasons, Ma'am."

"Potter?"

"Ma'am, I learned from Remus Lupin in my third year, Ma'am."

Athenahold's stiff face opened for a second, her shock plain. She quickly covered it. "And you've used it against real dementors? Surely...Surely that's not how you learned?"

"Ma'am, we used a boggart, Ma'am."

Athenahold's eyebrows came together, confusion evident.

Harry shuffled a little awkwardly. "My boggart is a dementor."

Athenahold's face shifted, hard to read, but her voice was softer, thoughtful. "This was back in your third year? That's...thirteen year olds shouldn't even know… At, at any rate, do you think that it is still a dementor?"

Harry thought, his mind flashing through horrible things he has seen, until it landed on the dark forest in his dreams, the isolation so complete that it felt like it was filling him. He realized that the feeling in the dream was almost exactly like the ones that the dementor pulled forward in him. Harry looked back towards the fire, "Ma'am, yes, Ma'am."

Athenahold looked at him sadly. "Have you fought with a dementor that was not a boggart? If so, how many have you fought off at once?"

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am. A few times. Uh, the most I have fought off at once was probably over one hundred." Harry grimaced at everyone's gasps. "But that was a bit of a fluke, you see… Well, actually, that's too long of a story to tell. The point is that, really, I've fought off two or three at a time when taken by surprise, so I'd say that's a more accurate number."

Athenahold's open shock was back again. "By yourself? How old were you?"

"Uh, I was thirteen with the one hundred and I… I wouldn't necessarily say that I was by myself. I was fifteen when I was attacked by two dementors in an alley."

"I remember that. That was when you had a full trial for your underage wizardry. That was why?" Athenahold shook her head, her expression aggravated. "Moving on, Trainee Potter, I'm putting you in charge of training your fellow trainees on the Patronus charm. Smith can help. Once they are able to conjure a corporeal Patronus let me know. I will find a bogart for you all to practice on with trainee Potter present. I want everyone to be able to at least make a non corporeal Patronus by the end of the day. I want to have you all training against the bogart by the end of the week, is that clear?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am!"

Athenahold popped away. Harry turned towards his fellow trainees who were looking back at him expectantly. Harry was reminded of leading the D.A. Smiling to himself, he wondered how he went from suspended to in charge in half an hour. "Let's get started."

At the end of the day Smith and Ailna's respective Wolf and Red Squirrel were charging about the room, glowing their intense silver light into the corners of the drab space. Taylor's was very close to becoming corporeal, moving from mist into something of enormous size. Barran struggled to make the non corporeal form.

"Excellent job everybody. We'll practice more tomorrow. Smith and Ailna, I'll show you guys how to make your patronus send messages as well. Taylor, you are so close. I think you should take a break tonight, I've never seen such a large patronus. Barran, I think that you should practice at home or you won't be ready by Thursday when we'll practice against the boggart."

Barran scowled at him and Harry smirked. Barran gathered his things quickly and left.

"He's such a tosser." Taylor shook his head. "Thanks Potter. You're a good teacher."

Harry grinned, pleased. "Thanks."

"I heard you taught a bunch of lower years defense spells back a few years ago, in Hogwarts?"

Harry nodded, putting his cloak on.

"I want to thank you, Harry." Smith was looking down at her hands.

Harry shook his head, "It's no problem. I like teaching, really. Besides, I didn't help you that much today Smith, you just needed a refresher."

"No, I mean all these months that we've been training together, I've meant to say it. And now that training is almost over...I just wanted to say it before we all got too busy."

"Thank me for what?"

"Saving us all."

Harry stopped in his tracks. Taylor and Ailna stopped too, looking between Smith and Harry.

Harry could feel his face turning red. "Uh, well, you're welcome. I didn't exactly do it by myself, you know…"

"Thanks Smith. I wanted to say it too." Taylor stood straighter. "Thank you, Harry, seriously."

Ailna nodded behind Taylor. "We weren't sure how to bring it up. We didn't want to say it right away, as that would look hero worship-y."

"And we really didn't want to give you that impression. Because you're certainly a hero, but…" Smith stuttered to a stop.

"But you're just Potter. You're terrible at potions, you're only serviceable at transfiguration, and you're temper is ridiculous. So we don't worship you. At all." Ailna's face was serious, her voice sincere. She wasn't trying to be mean.

Taylor smiled at her. "Not how I would have said it, but… Essentially, yeah. I mean, you're human, which makes what you did all the more impressive. So, you know, we just all wanted to thank you. Get that out of the way. We didn't want you to think that we were taking for granted all that you've done."

"Or that we're awestruck either," Smith added. Everyone nodded.

Harry felt like his face was on fire. "Ah, I'm glad that there is no hero worshipping. And...and you're welcome. I'm glad it's over too."

They all snorted, patting him on the back as they left.

The next morning Harry stood in horror, looking at the notice board on his floor. He ran to the notice board by the elevators. It was there too. He tried to pull it off but it was stuck on fast. Behind him he heard laughter.

St. James came up to him, slinging an arm around his shoulder. "With this, we're all good. You're punishment is over." Whistling he walked away, leaving Harry staring after him, pale, then red, then pale.

Posted on every inch of free space was his letter.

 _To the Auror Department,_

 _I've written, I believe, three thousand versions of this letter, ranging from pleading for forgiveness to defensive babbling and everything in between. My owl knocked my quill from my hand at four in the morning in a fit of protective instinct. In my tired delirium I realized that in order to get to the right tone I had to be honest. I had to be honest in my thinking and honest in my reflections on why it was wrong._

 _So I want start off by saying that I don't think that I was wrong. I have seen a lot of harm come to many people while other people sat back and watched, unwilling to do anything. I have seen people turn the other way, thinking that someone else will take care of it too many times to count. I'm usually the person that takes care of it. So you see, sitting there waiting for orders while people were getting hurt, waiting for a convenient time to act, waiting for it to be safe, went against all of my experience, all of my instinct._

 _If any of you have spent any time under the cruciatus, you'll understand why I can't regret sparing that child even a second longer under it._

 _What I do regret is my arrogance. I believed that I was the only one who was fighting their instincts to go out and help. I believed that I was the only one who could see that the plan was falling apart at innocent people's' expense. But I was wrong. I should have understood that I wasn't the only one gritting their teeth. I should have trusted that other people, people with more knowledge and experience, were reevaluating what needed to happen._

 _And ultimately that's where my arrogance comes from, not trusting other people. Believe it or not, this is a lesson I have learned before._

 _Professor Dumbledore was my mentor. I can't really describe all that he meant to me. He was brilliant and good in all the ways that mattered, but he made some terrible mistakes. I learned a lot from him, not least of which was trying to learn from what he messed up. The biggest thing he messed up was not trusting people. He played his cards very close to his chest. And though, at the end of his life, I believe that I knew him well, maybe even knew him best, there were things he didn't trust me with. He manipulated and positioned people instead of talking to them. He thought he knew best. He thought that he was the only one who understood when to take action. He thought he was the only one who was gritting his teeth._

 _When it came time to fight Voldemort, I entered Hogwarts and saw a crowd of my friends. I saw people who had been fighting against Voldemort just as much as I had, but in different ways. I had a choice. I could have kept what I was doing close to my chest. I could have tried to protect them through ignorance, but instead I told them the truth. I asked them for help. Voldemort wasn't defeated when his spell backfired once again. He was defeated the moment I opened my mouth to tell the truth. Even if I had died (died more permanently) others would have known. He was defeated not by me, but by honesty, trust, and love._

 _The point of this is that this is a lesson I have learned before. I was wrong to think I could work alone. I was wrong to think that I was the only one who cared. I was wrong to assume that I knew best. I am not Albus Dumbledore, nor do I want to be._

 _So, then, I am at six hundred and thirty three words and kind of at lose at what else to write. I really am sorry, so I don't want to just turn this in without making the effort to do a complete two thousand words. But you know, what I wrote is sincere and I think covers it._

 _I will write what I could have done better, strategy and spell wise._

The rest of the letter was him talking about his failings as a wizard and an auror in great detail. Overcome with embarrassment he tried half heartedly, futily, to tug them off one last time before spinning on his heel to try to find St. James.

But St. James had already left on assignment. Athenahold was unhelpful. "You didn't know that the letters were open letters? Every time an auror writes an apology letter it is posted to the public. It's in the handbook." The then patted his hand and dismissed him.

Ailna was reading the leader as she was waiting for the elevator. She glanced back at him as she finished. "It's a good letter, Potter. Much more honest than I would have expected from an open letter, though, especially from you."

Harry groaned. "I didn't know it was an open letter!"

Ailna laughed.

The next morning the newspaper headlines were once again splashed with his name. _Harry Potter Dismisses Dumbledore! The Chosen One Struggles as an Auror! Harry Potter's First Public Statement since the fall of You-Know-Who!_

The reactions ranged from calling the letter a humanizing, giving a clear look into his thought process and personality for the first time since his interview about how Voldemort returned to calling for his dismissal from the Aurors as he admitted to many failings at different spells in the letter, calling him a fluke.

Harry felt like he was walking around in his pants, exposed.

St. James was back the next day. Harry cornered him in the hallway. "You know that I had no idea that the letter was an open one. You didn't tell me on purpose."

"It's not my job to tell you what's clearly written in the handbook…"

"Enough, St. James. You knew I didn't know. You knew that this wouldn't be snickered over in the kitchen by a few of my teammates, you knew that this was going to spread…"

Harry couldn't stop some heat from entering his voice as he spoke. St. James continued to smirk, making Harry want to hit him very badly.

"I don't deny it. But if the letter had been too personal, or if it had been arrogant, I would have made you rewrite it. But I don't think that it was. I know it crosses many lines, personal and professional, to decide on my own what is too personal to show the world. But the letter was perfect, and as your superior I hear a lot of doubts about you from all over the Ministry. For awhile there will be a lot of different opinions, Harry. But they won't matter. I know for a fact that the auror department understood you well and respects you better now. The people who understand are the ones who matter, the ones who are condemning you for not being perfect will never matter, not now or ever."

Harry stepped back from him, the fire gone but the anger still there. "So you were doing me a favor?"

St. James's smirk changed into a smile, more genuine. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but yes."

"You had no right."

St. James' smile became a little sad. "I know. I don't expect you to forgive me."

Harry walked away from him, his feelings mixed and confused.

* * *

Harry was out of floo powder. And a number of potions ingredients. Also he needs more broom polish. Basically, he needed to go shopping. In Diagonally. He didn't want to. The stupid letter had gone public only a week ago. He was no longer under the title in all the papers, but he was still prominent, gossip columns and editorial pieces dissecting every word.

He fingered his invisibility cloak, he considered the black cloak with the large hood hanging on the door. Sighing, Harry stepped onto his front step in just his regular winter cloak. It was time to accept that he was famous, have some grace about it.

He appeared next to the apothecary and entered quickly. In the gloomy and smelly space no one paid any attention to him. He savored the inattention, but knew it couldn't last. Squaring his shoulders, he stepped out into the street, people glancing at him once, double taking, looking at him, nudging their companions, moving in close, suddenly loud, too many people trying to touch him.

Harry thought quickly, trying to figure out how to deal with this. He thought about crowd control tactics he learned recently in auror training. He needed to spot one person and make them central, have them become a sort of representative of the crowd. He needed to be careful of who he picked. It had to be someone more calm looking than the rest.

There was a middle aged wizard pressed in close to him, looking uncomfortable, glancing back angrily at the three witches who kept trying to push past him. He looked at Harry apologetically, seemed startled when Harry looked back at him.

"Hello, sir. Bit crowded all of sudden, isn't it?" Harry grinned at him. The crowd quieted a little when Harry spoke.

The man stared at him, wide eyed. "Y-Yeah. The pushy witches behind me are my wife and two daughters, they're big fans of yours. I-that's not to say I'm not a fan, but definitely in a different way than them."

Harry flushed, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. He fought the urge to run. "Ah, hello!" Harry nodded to the witches behind the man. All three started to laugh strangely, the daughters faces bright red. The crowd stopped pushing forward so much, quieted further, listening. "Are you two in Hogwarts?"

The girls nodded emphatically, stuttering and speaking over each other. "Oh yes! Ah, I'm in - in Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw! Fourth place…I-I-I mean, fourth year."

"I'm in Hufflepuff! I'm in second year. I said Hufflepuff, right?"

Harry smiled at them, wondering what on earth all these people looked so fascinated with but plowing on anyway. "Ah, do you know Luna Lovegood then? She's a seventh year in Ravenclaw?"

The older girl shook her head, then nodded. "Yeah, I mean, I know of her. She -She wouldn't ever talked to me though, she's too cool."

Harry snorted, trying to cover it up with a cough, but he couldn't hide his smile. "Luna is?"

The girl nodded again, looking completely dazed now, "Yeah, I mean, she hangs out with Hermione Granger and Ginny Weasley."

Harry grinned, amused. He couldn't wait to tell them about their new reputations.

"Mr. Potter, are you going to quit being an auror?" A voice from the other side of the crowd yelled. Everybody had moved back a space, but there were people looking through shop windows, and people standing on barrels further down the street trying to get a look at him. The crowd murmured, then stopped, waiting for his answer.

Harry frowned. "No, I have no intention to. I know my letter made it seem like a can't do a levitation spell, but, well, it was an apology letter, I…"

"Good!" A different voice, further in the back yelled, to much nodding.

A witch in the front spoke next. "Good, it would be a shame for you to quit just because of some tossers writing mean columns about you."

There was a general murmur agreement. A younger boy, maybe ten, spoke next. "I liked your letter, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled at him. "Thank you."

Harry looked around the now silent crowd. "I-I need to get going. I have a few more things to buy…"

The crowd starting moving at once, different voices speaking up. "Sorry, Mr. Potter." " Of course, make way for him, move over you." "Sorry to cause such a ruckus, it's just rare to see you out and about."

The parted for him and Harry moved through the crowd, a little pink under all the staring eyes, but smiling at those who were smiling at him, and once he and exited the main body of the group he turned back, waving. "Nice to, um, nice to see you all."

"Nice to see you!" "We'll let you get on with your shopping!" "You hear that, Rachel? You leave the poor man alone." "Have a nice day!"

As Harry entered the next shop the crowd dispersed, cheerful and flushed for having been so close to their hero.

Harry looked through the window at the smiling, laughing, excited people slowly moving back to whatever it was they were doing and felt an unexpected goodwill forming towards them. For a moment he kind of understood why people might enjoy being famous.

Then he turned, stepping back in alarm at the shop keeper staring at him with an open mouth. Harry sighed and gave a mental shrug. "Hello there."

The shopkeeper gaped at him like a fish. Harry patted him on the shoulder, moving around him to the shelves with the broom polish.


	16. All Will Be Well

**All Will Be Well**

"They're going to hate me."

"Why would they hate you?"

"Because I'm a terribly flyer."

"You- Ginny, they scouted you because you're a brilliant flyer."

"They were confused!" Ginny made a strange flailing gesture, spinning on the spot before sitting down and then standing back up again.

Harry, Ron and Hermione shot amused glances at each other behind Ginny's back.

Harry grabbed her hand lightly, giving it a little squeeze. "They weren't confused, you're amazing. And you'll do amazing." He stood and guided Ginny to the fire place. "I wish I could come and watch."

Ginny sighed. "I'm not sure if that would make me more nervous or not."

Harry glanced at the clock. "You better go."

Ginny nodded, looking like she was being sent to the gallows. "Yeah."

Harry leaned forward, giving her a small peck on the lips. Ginny smiled and turned towards the floo while Ron made a gagging sound.

Hermione sat forward, taking a sip of a tea. "I think I'm even going to be heartbroken if she doesn't get on the team, she wants it so bad."

Harry and Hermione frowned at each other. Harry didn't like even imagining Ginny returning after try outs, crushed and disappointed, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Ron shrugged. "It's Ginny. She'll be fine."

Hermione flicked him on the forearm. "Don't be so cavalier. She's wanted to join the Holyheads since third year, you know."

Ron flicked back. "I'm not being cavalier. It's just that Ginny is tougher than the rest of us combined. If she doesn't get in this time, she'll brush it off and try again."

Harry realized, a little startled, that Ron was proud of his little sister.

Hermione gave Ron a small smile. "In the meantime, let's practice these spells."

"For all the advanced magic that George does, you'd think that he would have gotten better O.W.L. scores. I can't believe how much magic I've had to learn since starting there."

"Poor Ron. It's a bit like six year when you thought that all those breaks would just be free time." Hermione gave him a fake sympathetic pat on the arm.

Harry grinned. "Hey, at least you don't have these spells all used on you at work. It's a nightmare now that the others have gotten better at dueling."

"That's rich. I work for George Weasley. You think that these spells aren't used on me at work?"

"Oh? You'd rather a team of aurors coming after you than your brother playing pranks?"

"Let me repeat myself. I work for George. Weasley."

"...True."

Hermione tapped her wand against the table. "Can we focus please?"

An hour later the fire turned green. Harry jerked around, his heart speeding up, his mind racing. Surely tryouts aren't already over?

But it was Andy, looking mildly grumpy as she took in Harry's disappointed face, Hermione's slumping back into the couch, and Ron's grumbled, "Oh, it's just you."

"That's a cheery welcome."

"Sorry, we thought you were Ginny."

"Yes, I suppose I would be dissapointed too if I was expecting a pretty redhead and I got me instead."

Harry laughed. "She's at tryouts right now."

Andy's eyebrows raised, "Is she? Ah well, I'm sure she is doing great. Though I'm not Ginny with news, I do have a lot of food. My friend Marcie was going to have a large potluck but cancelled at the last minute, so I have about fifteen extra beef and ale pie if you all are interested?"

Ron sat forward again, his face bright with enthusiasm. "Yes, definitely." Behind him Hermione rolled her eyes.

Harry grinned. "Yes, we'd love some. Will you bring Teddy as well?"

Andy nodded before disappearing for a minute, reappearing in a blaze of green flame, Teddy on her hip, his bag over one arm and a box of pies in the other.

Harry helped her through, taking her things and summoning some plates, when the fire turned green again, Molly and Arthur in the flames this time. "Harry dear, we just know that she's going to come tell you first, but I just can't wait to know. Can we wait here?"

"Of course!"

Molly and Arthur pulled themselves through, brushing off their clothes as they noticed the other people already there. Andy stood up, smiling. "This is great timing Arthur, Molly, I just brought over a lot of extra pies."

"Oh Andromeda, what a coincidence! I brought a over a pot of stew. I'm still used to making food for nine, but it's a bit silly with just us two." Molly enlarged a large pot and placed it to the box of pies. Ron's face was practically glowing with happiness.

Harry summoned some bowls as well as some baby food for Teddy. Molly was cuddling him, smiling down at his easy, bright, smile. "Don't any of you say anything, especially because they haven't said anything yet, but I suspect that Fleur might be pregnant."

Everyone in the room gasped. Andy reached forward, gently taking Teddy and sitting him in his play chair, spooning him food. "What makes you say that, Molly?"

Molly smiled, taking a bite of a pie. "She just has a certain glow about her. Plus she was sick as a dog the morning we first arrived for a visit."

"I hope so. Molly, Arthur, you'll make such excellent grandparents."

"Oh we can't wait. Molly's already started knitting socks and hats."

"I'm so excited, I just want a whole horde of grandbabies." Suddenly Molly snapped her head toward Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "But not quite yet from you four, you hear me?"

Hermione and Ron's faces turned bright red instantly. Ron covered his face, "Mum, please."

Hermione gave a high pitched, almost hysterical, sort of giggle and punched Harry in the leg, shooting him a look telling him he should speak.

Harry felt his cheeks warm a little before stammering, "I- I wouldn't worry about it, Mrs. Weasley, um, Molly."

Arthur and Molly exchanged a knowing glance before giving the three teenagers a stern look.

Grinning, Andy changed the topic. "How are things at the Ministry now, Arthur?"

Conversation flowed easily between the three older adults after that. Harry took turns between eating and holding Teddy, marveling at how big he had already gotten. Hermione took a turn holding him, smiling softly, but still looking a little stiff even after having held him many times.

Ron loved Teddy, throwing him up in the air, making faces at him, playing peek-a-boo. Teddy always squealed, his hair a bright red, whenever he was with Ron. He also always slept through the night, exhausted. Whenever Harry saw Ron and Teddy, he always felt a strange mix of jealousy and happiness. Ron would make a great dad one day.

Hermione always watched Ron and Teddy with a strange gleam in her eye. Harry leaned over, "What are you thinking about?"

Hermione's face turned pink, but she smiled a small, pleased smile. "Ron's good with children. I don't know why that surprises me, I guess it doesn't. It's just...good to know."

Harry smirked at her. "You heard what Molly said, Hermione." Hermione rolled her eyes and knocked her shoulders lightly into his.

The fire turned flared green and all conversation stopped. Even Teddy stopped gurgling.

Ginny stepped into the room, her hair wild behind her, her face red and dirt streaked. She looked around the living room, surprised at all the people there, before her eyes landed on Harry.

Her face broke out into a huge grin, "I got in."

Harry jumped to his feet, his eyes only on Ginny as loud happy exclamations happened behind him. He wrapped her in a tight hug and twirled her around, her face shining in happiness, her body shaking in his arms as she laughed.

He knew what memory he could use should he ever run into a dementor again.

Harry kissed her soundly, but briefly, on the mouth before putting her down, watching as everyone took turns giving hugs and congratulations.

Ron turned on the radio and Andy poured everyone some wine. Ginny sat on the couch with Teddy on her lap, drifting off to sleep despite the noise. "There was some tough competition. And the keeper was completely on a different level. No offense Ron, but she made you look like a slug."

Ron scowled but Ginny continued, "Training starts in late July. I'll be starting as a second string, but that's pretty typical. By the middle of the season I should even be starter in some games. The first strings always have an injury or two by then. Not that I'm hoping for them to be injured, but…"

Ginny looked around the room elated, laughing at Ron, smiling at Hermione, being squeezed by her parents, congratulated by Andy again who poured her more wine, gently rubbing small circles on Teddy's stomach as he slept, his head in the crook of her other arm.

Harry was still standing, watching them all, a glass in his hand, as Ginny made eye contact with him again and gave him a wink that seemed to say everything all at once.

* * *

He was in King's Cross again. Not the one he knew, not the one where he would go home to Hogwarts every year, where he met the Weasley's. He was in the white one. The one where met Dumbledore, where the poor, feeble ruined part of Voldemort's soul whimpered.

He was dead.

Harry felt his heart beating wildly in his chest. The calm of his first visit wasn't there. All he could feel was the frantic need to be back where he belonged, with his family.

Harry waited, his breathing harsh, panicked. He waited for a train or Dumbledore or someone else to come. He waited to wake up.

But nothing happened. King's cross glowed white, his gasping breathes both echoed and swallowed by the extreme, oppressive quiet.

Harry felt like his chest was going to explode, how fast his heart was beating, fear clawing at his throat, making sickness rise in his stomach. He screamed and then screamed again, something deep and primal, past dignity, making his throat raw.

But still nothing. Time past, he wasn't sure how long. He wondered if this was punishment for denying death, for getting to live again.

A voice behind him answered his unaired question. "Yes, it is."

Harry spun around, still in a crouch. There was a crowd of people. Colin, Fred, Cedric, Tonks, Remus, Moody, Snape, his parents, many faces of people he remembered from the battle. It was Sirius who spoke, his face colder than it had ever been in life.

"That panic, that need to be back with your loved ones, don't you think we felt it too? Why should you get to go back? Why should you get to be happy, in love, loved? Why do you get to go back?"

Harry swallowed thickly, falling from his crouch to his knees, licking his lips, his stomach sick with desperation, "Sirius, please, please, I know I don't deserve it. If I walked off to go sacrifice myself, then I should have actually made the sacrifice. I-I don't deserve what was taken from you all, I know, I know, but please, I love them so…"

Sirius suddenly moved in closer, frightening, his face full of rage and sadness, "You love them so much? Do you think that love will save you from death?"

Harry woke up gasping yes.

He looked around the room, the street light outside making shadows out of the dressers where he kept his clothes, the framed photos of his loved ones, the drawings that Dean and Luna had sent, the desk with his various accounts information on it.

He got up shakily and walked downstairs, still in the dark, past Teddy's play room where he slept soundly, past the couch with the pillows Ginny picked out, past the coffee table, still covered in empty wine glasses, to the kitchen.

He filled a glass with water and sat at the table but felt oddly cold, kind of exposed.

He sat in the corner, his back against the cabinets and breathed, his mind strangely blank.

He woke up cold and stiff, the glass on its side on the stone floor next to him. He stood and walked into the living room, blinking in confusion in the dim light of the soon to be rising sun. Virgil hooted at him from the window sill, silhouetted in the light. He had a mouse in this mouth and a letter tied to his leg.

Harry leaned against the back of the couch, watching Virgil swallow his meal in one and fly silently over to him, his ink black eyes serene, his feathers soft as soot against his cheek.

He cried, the tears on the left side of his face mingling with Virgil's feathers. Eventually the light of morning filled the room, breaking some of the surreal horror the dream had stuck him in.

Harry sat on the couch, moving Virgil to his lap. Virgil continued to look at him, unbothered by the dampness, his large eyes sweet and deep. He hooted once, and stuck his leg out.

He took the letter, unrolling it with shaky hands.

 _Hello Harry!_

 _Fleur and I were hoping to have a small dinner party next week, if you can make it? We want to have you and Ginny, Ron and Hermione, Neville, Dean, and Luna as well, if they can make it. I suppose we were thinking about having people over that stayed here during the war and Neville because he is friends with you all. Plus Neville and Fleur have struck up a friendship recently, it's a long story, one we can go into at dinner._

 _It will be next Friday at seven._

 _Please let me know if that works for you!_

 _See you,_

 _Bill_

Harry read through the letter twice before bursting out in a loud and empty kind of laughter.

"Virgil, what is my life? One minute I'm having horrible dreams, vivid, too vivid, like there more than dreams… The next I'm getting dinner invites… I...I just don't understand…"

Harry looked down at Virgil, his owl's eyes so focused on his face Harry felt a little startled.

"I mastered death, didn't I, Virgil?"

Virgil made a small sound, his eyes seemed impossibly large, like warm, dark caves. The owls kinship, the similarity with the thestrals felt more plain than ever. Harry felt like his skin was tightening, the hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end. But he didn't feel frightened. He felt small.

"If I mastered death, why am I so afraid of it now?"

The owl blinked slowly, blocking the depths there briefly.

"Why, if I know that people live on in some way, do I have these dreams where people I knew, people I love, tell me such horrible things? None of them...I would I hope none of them would actually wish that I was dead, think that it's unfair of me to live… Why am I making these people so evil in my dreams?"

Virgil moved closer, almost like he was closing in on something.

"When I mastered death, I did it by accepting it, right?"

Virgil's talons were on the edge of Harry's arm.

"So I need...I need to accept that...that they're dead?"

Virgil hooted again, lovely and somber.

Harry shook his head. "But it's my fault."

The owl dug in his talons just a little, a small reprimand.

"My guilt doesn't bring them back, does it?"

Virgil moved his talons away.

"The only way to master death is to accept it. The only way to defeat death is love. I know these things."

Virgil pushed the letter forward with his beak. Harry looked at the invite dinner with his closest friends and felt a strange, raising, burning sort of realization.

"I need to accept that they are dead. And then rather than feel guilty, I need to love them, what they did, their memories... That's the only way."

Virgil flew to Harry's shoulder, clicking his beak against the stem of his glasses before flying away upstairs.

Harry was writing the letter accepting the invitation when Teddy woke up crying.

Teddy needed his nappy changed, food, and fifteen minutes of Harry bouncing him in his arms before he quieted, staring at the light coming through the playroom window with a slightly grumpy face, his big brown eyes squinting.

"'Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love.' A very smart man told that to me once, Teddy. I think I am only now starting to really understand. The important thing isn't that you'll grow up an orphan, is it? It's that you're here. It's the same for me, isn't it? It isn't important that I should have died. It's that I'm here. I'm here with you, and with Ginny, and with Ron and Hermione, and everybody, that's all that matters."

Teddy scrunched up his face at Harry before trying to grab his glasses. Harry laughed. "I suppose that you might be a little young yet to understand this conversation."

* * *

"So, Virgil lead you through the land of the dead?" Ginny grinned up at him, petting Virgil who was loving the attention, his eyes closed in contentment.

Harry's mouth fell open a little. "Why does it sound stupid now? It's just that...I swear he was trying to help me think through it."

Ginny shook her head, still grinning. "It doesn't matter if you are imagining it or not, you know. Either way, I'm quite happy with anything that takes some of that weight off your shoulders."

Harry took Ginny's hand between his own, just enjoying the feeling of it there. "How does it feel to be wrapping up going to Hogwarts?"

Ginny looked thoughtful, her head tilted a little to the side. "Good. I feel ready. I mean, it's been memorable, but…"

Harry looked down at her contemplative face, "But even with the tight community that came up this year from it, you're ready to leave those memories behind?"

Ginny smiled at him, "Yes, sure, that, and I'm just truly sick of doing homework. N.E.W.T.s are the worst. You're so lucky you didn't have to do them."

Harry laughed. "I had a good reason. And it wasn't like I was doing something all that easy, either."

Ginny frowned, looking between Harry and the pile of books stacked on the kitchen table. "I don't know. If they offered taking down a Dark Lord to get out of this, I think that I'd jump at the opportunity."

Harry scoffed.

"Hey, even Hermione the other night, around two in the morning, threw down her quill and yelled out that she was starting to miss the blasted tent."

Harry threw back his head and laughed.

Ginny's smiling face dropped down into a hard to read grin. "But yeah, it's like what you said. I'm glad that I went back, but…"

They stood next to each other in silence, lost in thought for a while.

"So you're going to be some big time quidditch player soon."

"And you're going to be a full blown Auror, walking down the street, barking orders, arresting people."

"Yes, it will just be authority and glamour the whole time."

"I hear that you might have to do some paperwork sometimes, too."

"All the time, as far as I can gather. They tricked us with that intense training that first six months. It seemed like it would be all dueling and tracking then, but now every time I see a ministry letterhead I flinch."

"If it makes you feel any better, I think that being the new person on a quidditch team might involve a small amount of hazing."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, their hands intertwined. Ginny rested her head against Harry's shoulder. "We're going to be okay, aren't we Harry? All of us?"

Harry rested his cheek against the top of her head. "I think that life will be good, and hard, and bad and easy. But that won't matter."

Ginny moved her head, looking up at him, her eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Harry smiled at her, touching the ends of her hair with his finger tips. "Because we'll be living it."

 **A/N: And that's it! Thank you all so much for reading this little fic of mine. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it! I, again, want to thank all the reviewers who kept me going this whole time, and invite you to please review what you think of it now.**


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